What A Time It Was
by abc79-de
Summary: TRORY. Set in Rory's junior year of college, as she goes off to study abroad in London. complete.
1. Default Chapter

WHAT IT IS: Trory. Set junior year of Yale. (would be season 6) Rory heads out on a semester abroad to London. Bit o'Java Junkie, 'cause I can't seem to help it. On the fluffier side than my last Trory venture. :)

DISCLAIMER: I don't own the characters or the show, or anything. I'm just a crazy fan. I hear voices and everything!

Suitcases lined the inner hallway to the house, like a mini-barricade to their front door. She looked around, saddened, but excited for her daughter at the same time. Letting out a small sigh, she decided it was time to show off her displeasure at not seeing her only child at all for the next four months.

"Why London?"

"What?" Rory stuck her head out of her bedroom, looking at her mother quizzically.

"Why London? I mean, if you're going to study abroad, don't you want to go somewhere romantic, like Paris or Barcelona, or somewhere really scenic, like Germany?"

"Well, you have to pass a fluency test to get into all the other programs, and all I speak fluently is English," she said before her head disappeared back into her bedroom as she finished packing her last suitcase.

"That's not true! You know how to proposition Antonio Banderas in at least six languages! And you took other languages in high school," Lorelai said, moving down the hall to peer into the should-be empty bedroom. She had no idea where Rory had amassed a need to have all of her worldly possessions near her, or the possessions themselves.

"Yeah, but to be fluent, you have to be exposed to those languages by like age six or something."

"So, you're saying it's just my own damn fault," Lorelai smiled.

"Yep."

"Sorry. I should have been screaming at you in German when you were a baby. I know that for next time."

"Speaking of next time, is Luke going to be living here by the time I get back?" she raised a curious eyebrow at her mother.

"What? Doubtful," she scoffed. Rory shook her head at her, and sat on her suitcase.

"Help me."

Lorelai moved to secure the tote. "You know, you should probably put some of this stuff in another bag."

"I'm out of bags."

"You're out of bags? Are you even coming back? This is a lot of stuff," Lorelai asked sadly.

"Yes, I'm coming back. It's just a semester abroad. I've always wanted to do this."

"And you just happen to have the perfect excuse," Lorelai added, pointedly.

"I'm not running away. I'm having an adventure," she said in an upbeat fashion.

"You really are my kid."

"Mom, back to Luke, please."

"What about him? The deed on the house says Gilmore. Unless my name changes, the tenants of this house won't either."

"You two are doing well now," Rory pointed out.

"We are. We are doing well in our separate houses."

"It wouldn't be so bad," Rory shrugged.

"I'm not saying it would be bad at all. Just quick. We don't move quickly around here. It upsets the natives," she winked.

"So, the wedding's in what, ten years?"

"Shouldn't you be getting to the airport?"

"Now you want me gone," she rolled her eyes, picking up her last suitcase to place it with the others. She had to heft it up, as it was bursting at the seams.

"That doesn't have your underwear in it, does it?"

"No, why?"

"Just trying to protect my offspring from potential embarrassment. Let's get this stuff into the car."

The two heaved and pulled the bags into the Jeep, Lorelai now sorry that not only had she turned down Luke's offer to come over and help, but his offer to borrow his truck as well. Rory had packed her whole life away, taking it all to London. She claimed she just didn't want to be too homesick, and her belongings would help ease the transition. Lorelai wasn't going to argue with her about it, she knew she'd had a hard couple of months and was nervous enough about going.

"Well, this is it. You ready?" she smiled, turning to face Rory, who'd just climbed into the passenger seat.

"Ready as I'll ever be."

She made a motion to the radio, and Rory smiled. "I get to pick whatever I want?"

"No Spice Girls, but yes, anything else."

"Party pooper," she said, moving her hand under the seat to see what gems she could unearth. Her mother had the strangest hiding places for her guilty pleasure personal items, and Rory knew almost every single one of them. CD's under the car seat, movies under the couch, chocolate covered coffee beans in a lampshade that she never used much on her dresser, as opposed to the one by her bed that might get too hot and melt the chocolately goodness.

She was going to miss her mother and all her quirky ways, but she knew that this time alone would be good for Lorelai and Luke. Her mother had put her life on hold for so many years, to take care of her and this time was truly hers. Her business was practically running itself, and now she and Luke could just be together. Rory had never seen her mother so happy.

"Simon and Garfunkel? Really?"

"Hey, they had some good tunes."

Rory raised an eyebrow and read over the song titles. She recognized a few titles. It seemed to be a greatest hits collection of some sort. She saw a song called 'Bookends,' and popped it in, intrigued.

The song came on, and they listened for a few moments. The lyrics ran on about old friends and times shared. Looking back on life together and it seemed so bittersweet, like they were coming to an end of their time together. Lorelai hit the radio button, turning off the CD immediately. 'Tubthumping' came blaring over the speakers, the volume having been turned up for the prior softer track. Lorelai fumbled to turn it down immediately.

"You okay?"

"I'm good. Really, see, smiling."

"You don't have to go, if you don't feel like it."

"Mom, I had to beg to get in at the last minute."

"I know, but if it's going to be too much for you," Lorelai insisted.

"I've broken up with boyfriends before. He's no different, I just have to move on."

"He was a little different."

"I can't dwell on this."

"Okay, whatever you want. Just, call me, if you need anything," she offered, knowing she'd be helpless to offer anything else.

"I always do," Rory forced a smile at her mother. Her breakup with Logan Huntzberger just two weeks ago was more than fresh in her mind, but if she were honest, it was a long time coming. She would have had to give up more than she was willing to lose if she'd stayed with him, molding herself into a life that she didn't want. His family expected certain things of any woman by his side, and she wanted more for herself. She tried to ignore it as long as she could, but as the opportunity for her to travel overseas to study began to slip away from her, she could take it no longer. It nagged at her, until finally she told him she needed a break. He insisted they just promise not to write the other off, but that she take the time she needed. He didn't want to give up on this.

After a tearful goodbye and lots of last minute hugs at the security gate, Lorelai stood waving to Rory as she moved to walk down the concourse. She boarded her plane when they called for her row, and now looked out the window of the plane, ignoring the book that she'd pulled out to keep her occupied on the long flight. Tears welled up in her eyes momentarily, thinking of the enormity of leaving the country and being completely on her own for the first time in her whole life. She wondered if it was too much to handle right now. She knew it would be a great experience, one that she would never forget. She just hoped it was worth everything she was leaving behind.

It was scary, now that she was finally at the age where all her dreams were coming true. She'd never dreamed of the things she'd have to give up or put off to obtain these things, she's just pictured herself happily running towards her goals. All she needed right now was a bit of courage and a couple of deep breaths. Tonight she'd be going to bed in London, safe in her dorm room. She would wake up tomorrow living her dreams. The thought calmed her enough to open her book and began to read as the plane took off towards England.

Heathrow Airport was loud, bustling with end of summer travelers. She'd been there once before, luckily, and was glad to know her way around. She had the address to her dormitory in her hand, at the ready as soon as she could find a cab. She was most definitely in need of a nap and a proper surface on which to rest. Her legs ached from the cramped space of coach, and had considered it a miracle to find an empty luggage cart to assist her at baggage claim. She hadn't thought out this bringing her whole life with her thing carefully. But then again, she'd never traveled alone. She was learning, she decided, as a cab pulled up for her, and the driver got out to load bags into the back.

"Lots of luggage, Miss," he said, a soft English accent in his voice.

"Sorry," she said, moving to help him.

"Moving 'ere?"

She nodded. "For school."

"Excellent. Where can I drop you?"

She smiled and read off the address after they climbed back into the car. He asked if she'd like the scenic route, but she replied that it was okay, she'd been here before and was just ready to take a nap. He nodded, abiding her word. They pulled up next to a double-decker bus, and she immediately thought of her first trip to London, with her mother and their 'adventure' atop one of the buses. She pulled out her cell phone, switching it on. She saw she had a message, but ignored it, figuring it had just been Lorelai anyhow. She dialed and waited.

"Hello?" came the sleepy voice.

"Oh, crap! Sorry!"

"Rory?" she yawned.

"I forgot, six hour time difference?"

"Something like that. How was your flight?" she yawned again.

"It was fine. Long, but fine."

"'s that Rory?" came a groggy voice in the background.

"Shh, yeah, go back to sleep," she soothed Luke.

"Tell Luke I'm sorry. I'll call back at a decent hour. I'm almost to my dorm anyway."

"Okay, Hon. I wanna hear all about it. Tomorrow," she added with another yawn.

Rory bid her a goodbye and shook her head. Obviously her mother had been asleep. She decided she better check her phone, it might be something about her course schedule. She had gotten into some journalism, literature, and astronomy classes for this semester, and she was wait listing a student internship at the BBC. She hoped it was good news about that.

"Rory, it's me. I know you said you need some time, but I miss you. I can come out there, and visit, just give me the word. I love you."

She bit her bottom lip, trying to forget his words. She couldn't just cave in on this, she needed to give London a chance to unfurl her thoughts. She needed to see where life was going to take her. If it took her back to Logan, that was one thing, but she wasn't going to be the one to run back. Not now.

"'Ere we are, Miss. Need some help with your bags?"

"That would be wonderful, thank you," she said, attempting not to let her voice wavier. Twenty minutes and a hefty tip later, she sat down on her sheet-less bed. All the rooms were singles in this building, and she was a bit disappointed, yet glad at the same time. It might be nice to have someone to share the experience with more intimately, but she honestly had never liked living with other girls in close quarters. A knock came at her door, and she moved to open it.

"Hey, you must be R. Gilmore?"

"Rory, yes," she nodded at the guy with the check list in his hands.

"Great. I'm Dan, your Floor Monitor. I'm just down the hall in 302. Call me anytime if you have any problems with anything, preferably during the day, though," he joked. She smiled and nodded. He handed her a piece of paper.

"That has emergency numbers on it, and a list of activities for this first 'getting to know you' week. Just like real college," he wiggled his eyebrows. "They figure it's a little freaky for everyone to be away in a new country, just like starting over at college was. What's your major?"

"Journalism."

"Ah, we have a few of you on this floor. It's a co-ed floor, actually, all of the floors are co-ed. Something about Europe, they aren't as modest," he mumbled. "That means bathrooms are co-ed as well. We ask that everyone is respectful. We'll go over all this stuff at the meeting tonight. It's in the lounge down the hall."

She nodded, looking up from the paper. "Does this say it's a pajama party?"

"I thought it would be more fun. Bring pillows, popcorn, wear your best jammies. That kind of thing," he smiled.

She looked at him for a moment, trying to size him up.

"I'm not crazy or anything, I promise. Only one round of Bloody Mary."

She giggled. "Scaredy-cat," she admonished him.

"DAN!"

"Oops, duty calls. See you at eight!"

She nodded, and looked on as Dan moved off down the hall and into another room, where the source of the voice had come from. She closed her door, and looked around, deciding she was getting a second wind, and went about unpacking some suitcases.

AN: No Tristan yet, but he's coming—next chapter I promise.


	2. Chapter 2

AN: You guys rock! I love encouragement. . . and you must be rewarded right? As promised, Tristan makes his presence known to our heroine. . . enjoy.

BAM! BAM! BAM!

She jolted up, the left side of her face warmed from having been pressed into her pillow for an extended amount of time. She yawned, and stared at the door. She was completely groggy and fairly disoriented. Jet lag was not her friend.

BAM! BAM! BAM!

"Meeting in five!" came the only slightly familiar voice from the other side of her door. She heard a fainter knocking a moment later, presumably from the next door down.

She glanced up at her alarm clock, and sure enough, it was five 'til eight. She'd gotten most of her suitcases unpacked, getting sheets on the bed, books on shelves, and toiletries stored. All the necessities were in place, just as she liked it. She felt uneasy until her living space felt homey, she'd always been that way. She'd changed into her pajamas early, deciding to take a quick nap before the meeting. She had been more exhausted than she realized, having slept for the past three hours.

Picking up her fuzzy green pillow with a frog wearing a tiara embroidered on it, she grabbed her key before making her way out into the hall. She followed the group of people making their way down to the lounge. It was fairly cozy, lined with couches and a television in the corner. Dan was standing by the television, eating out of a large bowl of popcorn. She smiled, noticing that he was wearing large slippers that had furry dog heads on the ends of them. He was wearing a robe over plaid, flannel pajamas. She herself had green frogs on her cream-colored flannel jammies. Everyone in the room had on some form of sleepwear, some leaning against pillows and covered up with blankets. One girl even had a large stuffed pig clutched under her arm. Rory giggled and sat down in an open spot on one of the couches.

"Okay, everybody, settle down!" he began, causing the chatter around the room to hush to a murmur before silence was achieved.

"Wow. Ten seconds or less. A new record," he nodded in approval. "Okay, well, welcome one and all. I'm Dan, your Floor Monitor. You should all remember meeting me, unless you were too jet-lagged at the time. Some of you looked pretty out of it, so I won't take it personally if your recollection is foggy.

So, I just have a few things to go over, rules and whatnot. You all seem to follow instruction well, with one notable exception. Young man, is there a reason you didn't want to play along with your fellow floormates?" he asked jokingly out into the crowd, obviously eying one person in particular. Everyone turned to see who Dan was looking at.

There on the arm of one couch sat a man dressed in jeans and a t-shirt.

"Sorry, I don't have any pajamas. I sleep in the buff."

"Well, in that case, thanks for sparing us," Dan laughed. "Everyone, steer clear of Mr. Dugrey's room in the mornings. That would be rule one," a round of laughter came from the crowd.

Rory, however, was too surprised to laugh. Her gaze was transfixed on the man in the jeans. She was completely stunned. She wondered if her overly tired mind was playing tricks on her.

"Okay, so looking around you may have noticed that we have both girls and boys here, and just one bathroom. Everyone is to please be respectful of the opposite sex; keep it covered up; no surprise attacks. I will come up with a fitting punishment for anyone who gets frisky," he smiled.

"As your Floor Monitor, I'm the only one with a bathtub and private bathroom. I will be taking bribes for anyone interested in using it. Special consideration will of course be made to any girls bearing bubble bath."

More giggles, and Dan held up his hands. "I'm kidding, money is always better than soap. Now, for the last very pertinent bit of information, having guests over. These walls, very thin. I know you all have single rooms, but you'll learn that very little will go unnoticed. Anyone caught performing the 'Walk of Shame' will be publicly and mercilessly mocked. I'm sorry, it's not my rule, I just enforce it."

Someone called out, "Are there any real rules, or can I get back to sleep?"

Rory smiled. It was obvious Dan was trying to tackle the main issues that living on a co-ed floor would face in a light hearted manner. She heard his words, but was still unable to pry her eyes off of Tristan. He was like a mirage, and she partially believed that if she took her eyes off of him, he'd vanish.

"Okay, my speech is over. If anyone has any questions, concerns, or just needs a suggestion of a good place to eat before the cafeteria opens when classes start next week, my door is open a lot. And I've been here for the last two weeks in training, so I know all the best places to eat and amuse yourselves. Class dismissed. Oh, and anyone with food willing to share, hang out here, please," he added.

Everyone began milling about, some people heading out to their rooms looking as tired as she'd felt a half an hour ago upon her sudden awakening. Her stomach growled loudly, reminding her that she'd missed dinner.

But she was still studying Tristan. He'd stood up, talking to a guy that had been sitting next to him on the couch, laughing. He must have felt eyes on him, as his gaze traveled slowly to meet hers. She looked away quickly, embarrassed to have him catch her staring. She waited a beat, hoping he had looked away, but as she allowed her eyes to wander back to him, she saw that he was looking at her. Not only was he looking at her, he was smiling.

A rush of warmth swelled up in her, and instantly she was torn between exiting back to her room quickly and sticking around to talk to him. She was curious to talk to him, as she hadn't seen or heard from her old classmate for four years. Not to mention their last conversation had been quite a memorable one.

"Rory, hey, cute frogs," Dan came up beside her, holding out the bowl of popcorn.

She took a handful, and popped the kernels into her mouth. "Thanks."

"So, get a good nap?"

"Too good. I missed dinner," she informed him, taking another handful of popcorn.

"So, you're going to eat all my popcorn?"

"I'll make it up to you. I have Pop tarts in my room. Anytime you want."

"Strawberry with frosting?"

"Oh, yeah, baby," she smiled as she snuck another handful. "This is good. Not from the microwave," she surmised.

"Nope. Air popper. It's my one luxury item."

"Like on Survivor?"

He smiled and laughed. "Exactly."

"My, my, Mary, if I'd known your stomach was the way to your heart, I'd have used that information to my advantage long ago," he came up beside her, still smiling knowingly.

He had caught her watching him, and now he was going to extract his payback.

"Mary?" Dan asked, clearly confused.

"Hey, Tristan," she said, now looking back at him.

"Long time no see," his eyes running over her flannel-clad body, making the full trip down and back up before meeting her eyes again.

"Okay, again I ask, Mary?"

"It's a pet name, she only answers to that for me," Tristan informed him.

"In your dreams, Dugrey," she rolled her eyes.

"Every night, Mary," he wasted no time in retorting.

Dan looked between them, unable to ignore the obvious vibe that was between the two. He patted them both on their backs. "And on that note, I'm going to go raid 306's stash of mini-candy bars. Goodnight you two."

"Did I hear you say you missed dinner?"

"If you were eavesdropping, then yes, you probably did."

"Still hostile I see," he chuckled.

"I'm not hostile. I just prefer to speak only to people that know my name."

"What, you can't handle a nickname?"

"Just not that particular one," she informed him. She'd been referred to by a nickname for the past six months. Logan's playful name for her had never bothered her. . . of course it hadn't been meant to be degrading. Tristan's on the other hand, had a way of making her feel 16 and awkward all over again. She squelched the gnawing feeling in her stomach.

"Would it make you feel better if you could call me something else?"

"Such as?"

"Many a girl has called out God's name in my presence. Just a suggestion."

"Goodnight, Tristan." She took a step back, holding her pillow to her chest.

"Wait, Rory. Hang on," he said, moving closer to her again, and putting his hand on her shoulder. She noticed his hands were large, covering her shoulder in warmth. She looked up at him expectantly.

"Can I buy you dinner? As friends," he said sincerely, not wanting to scare her out of saying yes.

She bit her lip, as if considering her hunger level. As if to give her away, her stomach growled loudly, causing him to smile.

"I think that's my answer. Now, are you planning on wearing this, or do you want to go change?"

"Fine. Dinner. Just as old friends, catching up."

"Don't forget dessert."

"I'm not sleeping with you, Tristan."

His eyes lit up with glee, though he tried to suppress it in his voice. "Now, I realize after all this time it might be hard to keep your hands off of me, but do you realize you just vocalized that thought out loud?"

She blushed, and fixed him with her best withering stare. He just smiled wider. "I'll meet you downstairs in ten minutes," she said finally, hating her loss of words. She turned and headed down the hall, padding in bare feet all the way. People were hanging out in their rooms, doors open, and music playing. Some people had again retired to bed, doors closed and DO NOT DISTURB written on white boards outside their doors. She got into her room, glad to have unpacked her clothes, and rifled through them quickly. Her phone rang as she was trying to assess the best thing to wear, and she picked it up hastily.

"Hello?"

"Hey! I'm awake, fill me in!"

"Mom, I can't talk now."

"But, you're up, and I'm up, and I want to hear all about London!"

"There's nothing to tell, and I'm going to be late if I don't get off the phone right this second!"

"Late for what?"

"Dinner."

"Dinner alone?"

"No, dinner with Tristan."

"Wow. You're there like six hours and already you've got a date?"

"It's not a date, Mom, it's Tristan. From Chilton."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! How dare you lie to your mother?"

"Can we do this later?"

"You sit there and say 'there's nothing to tell,' and all the while you're getting all gussied up for an evening out with a self-proclaimed sex god?"

"Have you met Tristan?"

"No, but you did your fair share of talking about him back then."

"I didn't talk about him. I complained about his unrelenting torment."

"Because he liked you."

"No, because he was an immature twit."

"And what is he now?"

"An immature frat boy, I would assume."

"Then why are you going to dinner with him?"

Rory paused, the line of reasoning that her mother had taken screaming that she had no good reason if all her statements were true.

"To confirm my assumption?"

"You're asking me?"

"I'm really hungry, and I know him. We were sort of friendly there before he left, and I don't know. It was nice to see a familiar face," she sighed.

"You lonely already?"

"Logan called. He wants to come over here."

"Oh, honey. What did you say?"

"Nothing, he got my voicemail. I haven't called him back yet."

"Are you going to?"

"I think so, to tell him not to come. You know him, he'll just fly out if he doesn't hear from me."

"That does sound like Logan," she agreed. "I can go have Luke work him over, make sure he can't walk onto a plane," she offered.

"No, I'll take care of it. Thanks."

"Anytime. Okay, go eat, and call me tomorrow."

"There won't be any juicy details."

"Never say never, my dear."

"Right. Night, Mom."

"Night. Love you, kid."

"Love you, too."

She threw her phone on her bed, deciding not to take it along. She didn't want to give herself the opportunity to answer, should Logan call again tonight. She'd take care of that tomorrow. Tonight she was just going out with an old friend and exploring London. She threw on regular clothes, and grabbed her purse, and headed downstairs as quickly as possible. She got to the main lobby to find Tristan leaning on the wall near the door. A sense of déjà vu hit her, and she could almost see him in the hallways of Chilton, leaning against the row of lockers. She smiled, realizing that it seemed to be a habit of his, leaning against things. As if he had trouble standing upright on his own volition.

"I'm all ready," she announced. He'd watched her approach, and he scanned her body again before standing up straight. She stood up a little straighter, and motioned to her clothes. "Better than the frogs?"

"I wouldn't say better. . . you looked cute in the frogs," he offered.

She blushed and shook her head. "Okay, your blood sugar must be low. Let's go get food," she said, moving past him to the door. He jogged to catch up, opening the door for her, and waiting until she passed under his arm and through the door before following along and into step next to her through the streets of London.


	3. Chapter 3

AN: Yeah, so this got kind of long. But, it's almost entirely Trory interaction. Woo-hoo! Enjoy!

The restaurant, small and dimly lit, was crowded to capacity. He gave his name and they were ushered immediately to a table, despite her concern of a two-hour plus wait. She should be used to certain names pulling weight in certain places, but she wasn't. On her own, nothing had changed.

As the server departed, she opened her menu noting the lack of prices next to the culinary descriptions. While a familiar sight, it still made her uneasy. No one should be so careless with their money, and she couldn't afford to be.

He closed his menu after only a moment's study. "So, what brings you to London?"

She glanced up at him over her still open menu. The no-price scenario also tended to increase her indecisiveness—everything sounded incredible, and nothing could be weeded out for being out of her willing price range.

"Same as you, I suppose."

"I know you're here for school, but is there more to the story?"

She closed her menu now, setting it down on the table top, and devoted her full attention to him. "If you're asking what I've been up to since I last saw you, we could be here all night. It's been four years."

"So, give me the nickel version. I'll start. I got shipped off to military school, then Harvard."

"Harvard?"

He nodded. "You seem surprised," he mocked, as she stared at him wide-eyed and parted mouth.

"I didn't know they took reform-school delinquents."

"I've have you know I was educated at one of the country's finest military academies."

She smiled at their banter, but it faded as she remembered the look in his eyes the night of what would have been their Romeo and Juliet scene at Chilton. He'd looked so lost and frightened, despite his confident words.

"How was it, really? Was it horrible?"

Not surprised by her concern, he answered seriously. "Some parts were worse than others."

His words were true. The hardest part was leaving her there in that hallway, never having made her understand certain things. She hadn't seemed to want him to go—racking her brain as she stood in front of him, offering ways that might get him off the hook though they both knew it was futile, and the look on her face when he said he wanted to kiss her. That look had haunted him and kept him sane from then until now.

"Well, my nickel version is valedictorian, Europe, and Yale."

Her tone was more upbeat, having sensed the need to ease the serious tone.

"I'm impressed. You beat Paris and lived to tell the tale?"

"She lightened up after you left. Well, not that night, but after that. She'd always had some weird belief that I was the reason that you weren't in love with her. Then, of course, she got laid. That helped a bit, too," she grinned at the look on his face.

Her last comment bewildered him. "Funny, I thought I would have known, what with it coinciding with the start of the apocalypse and all."

Rory grinned wider. "Actually, she's quite the sexual predator. She even kissed me once."

"Okay, we need to throw some more change into this conversation," he insisted, leaning onto the table towards her.

Rory giggled, and his heart jumped. He'd made her groan in frustration, sigh, cry, and truly smile a handful of times; but never had he made her giggle. It was intoxicating.

"It was nothing, a stupid experiment on her part to get free drinks."

"We've both kissed Paris," he said slowly with realization.

"Well, I hope you at least enjoyed it, 'cause I sure derived no pleasure from it," she made a face.

He laughed. "I only did it because I had your voice in my head."

"Jeez, now I feel like I should make it up to you," she stuck out her bottom lip apologetically.

Attempting to squelch the millions of sexual innuendos that leaped to the tip of his tongue, he took a drink of his water and smiled. He couldn't help but tease her earlier this evening, but he wanted her to stay through dinner and thought it best to watch his mouth.

His smile caused a chain reaction in her body. Her stomach tightened and tingles shot down her legs. She shivered, but tried to cover that fact by shifting in her seat.

"So, you know London well?"

"Dad's firm has an office here, and we have a summer cottage outside of Bristol," he nodded. "What about you?"

"Uh, well, I've been here twice, briefly. My great-grandmother lived in England, though I'm not quite sure where, or if the property is in our family," she furrowed her brow, realizing that she should know these things better.

"That's a no, then?" he mocked her, and she shot him a look.

"So, who's on the rotation these days?"

He looked at her in surprise, both at her random shift in topic and her actual question. "Excuse me?"

"Or are you starting fresh here in jolly old England?"

Her tone was knowing, but not biting.

"I'm not seeing anyone if that is what you're asking."

"I'm surprised. You were never without a female companion back at Chilton."

"Yeah, well, being surrounded with a thousand teenage boys will really decrease your sex drive."

"Speak for yourself," she admonished him.

"Watch, it there Mare, or I'll start to believe you've lost your innocence." His heart jumped again. He was beginning to think that being around her might not be good for his health.

She teased him, tossing her hair off over one shoulder. "It had to happen sometime, didn't it?"

An ache that had been smoldering in him waved up, as if awakening. "Tell me it wasn't the damn bag boy."

She blushed. "Actually, it was."

"Are you still with him?"

"No, God, no. We broke up a long time ago," she looked at her lap, as if something had clouded over her thoughts.

He watched her intently, curious as to what had her attention. "So, you're on the prowl, too, huh?"

She looked up at him, almost startled. As if the idea of dating hadn't occurred to her at all. He should have figured—she was the ultimate student. She was probably wholly focused on her courses. He'd taken great pride in trying to break her intense concentration while studying in the past.

"Oh, no. I'm not looking to date anyone while I'm here."

"Well, that may be, but you never know when it's going to find you."

"Isn't that the truth," she said, sarcasm interwoven into her response.

"Did I say something to offend you?" he asked, unsure of what had caused her mood to sour so quickly.

"No, it's nothing. I sort of just got out of a relationship. I don't really want to talk about it," she said, playing with her napkin as it lay in her lap.

"Breaking hearts wherever you go?" he asked lightly.

"Something like that. So, what is there to do before classes start up?" she asked, clearly more than ready to change the subject. He knew there was much more to the story that she wasn't telling him.

"Well, I could show you around a little if you wanted, or we could take a little trip to our cottage. It's amazing, I really think you'd like it," he insisted.

"You don't have to baby-sit me," she scrunched her nose a bit.

"I'd hardly call hanging out with you a chore," he smiled.

"Well, if you want to. I would like to get to know my way around before school starts."

"My stint as tour guide begins tomorrow," he nodded.

"Late, right? Because I'm starting to feel some serious jet-lag effects," she yawned, having finished her dinner and pushed the empty plate away from her.

"Do you still like coffee?" he asked as the waiter came back around to clear their plates, and handed him the check.

"No. I've never just liked coffee. I have this sort of necessity to ingest it," she propped her chin up in her hands, and smiled sleepily. She was fading fast.

"I'll be sure to bring some of that to lull you out of bed, then," he promised.

"Such a smart man you are," she said, grabbing at the check.

He pulled it out of her reach and shook his head.

"Tristan, let me see it," she demanded.

"Nope. You promised to let me take you out to dinner. That includes my paying the bill. It doesn't include you trying to figure out how much we spent, or trying to leave the tip."

She scowled at him, and watched as slipped his credit card into the holder and put it on the table between them, like a challenge. She sat back in her chair, and sighed.

"Well, know that just because you bought me dinner doesn't mean you can go around telling people that we've dated."

"I wouldn't dare. I would imagine that would end with me in a world of pain," he smirked.

"That's right, it would," she promised. "A bloody and painful death," she added.

"Careful, Rory. You don't want to say anything now that you might regret later," he said as they stood up to leave. They got back out onto the street, and she noticed the air had grown chillier since they went into the restaurant. She pulled her arms around her torso, trying to block the wind on her chest.

"Cold?"

"I'm fine. Hey, didn't you promise me dessert?" she asked.

"You're still hungry?" he asked in amazement. She'd had quite a large dinner, eating more than even he had, and now she was beaming at the idea of eating more.

"So?"

"I thought you were tired."

"I can't sleep if my stomach is rumbling," she informed him. "You wouldn't want to be the reason I lie awake in bed all night, would you?"

She meant her question innocently, but he swore that deep down she knew how badly she was tormenting him. He swallowed, wondering if she'd think of him all night long, and shook his head.

"I guess if you put it like that," he paused. "What do you feel like?"

"Ice cream," she nodded with decision. "And you have to let me pay," she stipulated.

He smiled, liking her unending tenacity. "Fine. I'll allow you to buy me ice cream. Once."

Pleased with herself, she followed him into an ice cream parlor. She was surprised to find it was nearly eleven o'clock, and the place was almost ready to close. He stepped up and ordered a cone, and she did the same. Hers was coffee ice cream, his cookies and crème. She paid, and they wandered back out into the night, eating their ice cream.

She shivered, enjoying the cold dessert despite the nippy night air. She could be warm later. Ice cream was always worth it. She looked over to Tristan, who took a bite of his ice cream, and she broke out into uncontrollable giggles. She stopped in place, almost doubling over, and he turned to look at her in confusion.

"What is it? Rory, are you okay?"

"Ohmygod! I," she tried to speak, but tears sprang to her eyes and her breath was taken away by another round of laughter. The people that were out on the streets at this time of night stared at her as they passed the pair, but she remained oblivious to anything but whatever was tickling her.

"Rory, what is with you?"

"I'm sorry, I just remembered this story someone told me," she sighed, a last giggle escaping her throat as she looked at him in the eye. "You eating your cone reminded me of it."

"What's wrong with how I eat my ice cream cone?"

"Nothing, nothing, it's just," she giggled again, tears welling up in her eyes. He rolled his eyes, a little annoyed now. It couldn't be that damn funny.

"Rory," he hedged. "Take a breath, calm down," he instructed, moving her towards a bench. She shivered as she made contact with the cold metal, and he sat next to her to conserve body heat.

"Okay, I was in this really boring seminar one Saturday last semester, and the T.A. that was teaching it kept leaving to make copies, so we all got to talking. Someone said they wanted ice cream, and this girl started laughing really hard. She'd just spent a semester in Germany, and there was this ice cream parlor by the university that she and a bunch of friends went to a lot. They went with a whole group of people, and the German girls were making fun of the way that guys ate their ice cream cones," she paused, trying to stifle the giggles again. "Anyhow, no one got the joke, and finally the American girls begged the German girls to let them in on it. So now, the poor boys have all the girls laughing at them, and why they were giving this one guy a horrible time. Finally, they wore them down, and the German girls explained that they were laughing because there, how a guy eats an ice cream cone is how he likes having oral sex done to him."

Her eyes glistened, and he willed his cheeks to retain their natural color.

"So, what was the guy doing?"

"He was using his teeth to bite the ice cream instead of licking it or using his lips," she giggled, and he nodded in realization. "I've just never seen anyone actually do it before now," she let loose another round as he stared at her.

He watched her laugh, albeit at his expense, and couldn't believe how luminous she was when she laughed. He wanted to stay on this bench like this forever. He couldn't let her continue to mock him, however, he was in desperate need of a quick comeback to get her to stop laughing.

"What's wrong, you don't like it a little rough?" his voice was low, and something inside her reverberated. It got her to stop laughing, and she looked into his eyes. Her shoulder was burrowed into his, as he provided heat for both of them.

It wasn't quite the effect he was going for, but it worked. He meant to come off as sarcastic, but his voice was dripping with desire and intrigue. She was staring into his eyes, unable to look away, and he knew what she was seeing in them. He always had trouble hiding his want of her, but she'd always written it off as a game. Her own expression now was hopeful and confused.

Neither was aware of anything but their sudden proximity, and it wasn't until her wrist allowed her ice cream cone to tip too far and expel its contents on the ground that she looked away.

"Oh, man!" she exclaimed, somewhat relieved to have something else to focus on other than his intense blue eyes.

"Here, have mine. You'll treat it nicer than I would have anyhow."

She smiled softly, and accepted the cone.

"Not to mention the fact you were crazy to want ice cream on a night like tonight," he added.

"You weren't complaining before," she said as they stood up and continued to walk towards their dorm.

"You're right, I wasn't. But before, you weren't mocking me."

"Is this decreasing my coffee chances for tomorrow?"

He laughed, and put his arm around her shoulders in an effort to keep her warm enough so she could eat her ice cream without her teeth chattering. They got into the lobby, her finishing off the cone as they walked in. They made their way up the stairs, and he stopped with her in front of her door.

"So, thanks for dinner," she said quietly, not wanting to wake up the whole floor.

"Anytime. Thanks for the lesson in cone consumption," he smirked back at her.

"Right. Well, good night," she said, unlocking her door.

"Night," he said, watching her slip into her room before turning to head down the hall to his own room. When he walked by Dan's room, he saw that the door was open, and the glare of a television was the only light in the room.

Tristan stuck his head in, and Dan looked up. The volume had been turned all the way down. "What's up, man?"

"I'm a bit of an insomniac, I'm still on Chicago time," he said, looking back to the screen.

"Why don't you turn it up?"

"It's in Spanish. If I turn the sound off, I can almost hear the actual words in English in my head," he said, finally looking at Tristan again as he came in far enough to see old re-runs of Flintstones cartoons.

"Huh," he nodded, looking back to Dan, whose eyes were glazed over slightly from staring at the television in the dark.

"You want to join me?" he offered, trying to focus his eyes on him in the semi-darkness.

"No, I have to sleep. I'm exhausted."

"Big date?"

"What?"

"You and Gilmore. You went out, right?"

"No, man. We're just old friends."

"You sure 'bout that?"

"I'm sure. Night, man."

"Night."

With that, Tristan left him to his soundless Fred and Barney, watching as they attempted to get out of whatever pickle they'd gotten themselves into in the first twenty minutes of the show. His own thoughts were racing at the way the last four hours of his day had taken a turn for the unexpected. He looked forward to his dreams tonight.


	4. Chapter 4

AN: It's been a little crazy—it's finals week. So, with one down and one to go—here's my break from studying.

The sun shone brightly around her, warming her bare shoulders and arms. Big Ben stretched overhead, just behind her. Though the large clock was what she'd come to focus on, it wasn't the case at the moment. Right now it was just a spot on the face of the earth, somewhere else she couldn't escape her life.

"Rory, please, consider what you're doing."

His hands moved to her sun-freckled shoulders, as his urgency to be the only thing in her world grew.

"I have considered it, Logan. Do you think this was easy for me?"

She tried to avert her eyes from him, but he seemed to be everywhere, encompassing her.

"I'll move here, I'll take the semester off."

"My being here has nothing to do with you."

"It has everything to do with me; I love you!"

"No, you don't," she protested, pushing her palms into his chest as hard as she could, but he continued to hold steadily onto her.

"Yes, I do," the sincerity made her freeze and look up only to find Tristan's blue eyes staring deeply into her own.

"But, I," she fumbled as his hands slid down her back, moving lightly until they came to rest just above her hips.

"Why don't you want me?" he questioned her, hope and confusion filling his voice.

Her cell phone began to ring, and she desperately wished it would stop. He looked down sadly towards her pocket that she'd shoved it into.

"I have to get that," she began to defend the action she dreaded.

"Why won't you just give this a chance? He doesn't make you happy. If he did, you wouldn't be here with me," the familiar frustration of his tone made her heart ache.

RING, RING!

She sat up suddenly, her hand reaching out quickly and instinctively for her cell phone on her nightstand. Her legs were tangled in the top sheet and locks of damp hair clung to her neck and forehead. She tried to calm her erratic breathing before she answered.

"Hello?"

"You've got to stop leaving this state! Every time you do, I start having bizarro-land, Anne Heche in Fresno kind of dreams!"

"Mom?"

"I'm losing my mind, luckily it's only when I sleep, so I'm going to have to stop sleeping. That's it. I'll stop—or take really quick catnaps during the day, you know, so I'm not actually out long enough to dream."

"That sounds like an excellent plan."

"You have to come back. Mommy's psyche needs you," she complained.

"Or you could just tell me about your dream," she suggested, getting up to retrieve a bottle of water. Perhaps hearing her mother's unsettling dream would help her forget her own.

"Okay, I was at the Inn, behind the desk, and Luke comes rushing in," her voice assumed the story-telling tone.

"I've never seen Luke rush," Rory mused.

"You've never seen Luke do a lot of things," she hinted.

"Ew, okay, you know what, I can hang up and leave you to your freaky dreams," she warned.

"Okay, okay. Fine. Anyway, he came rushing up to me and tells me that my house burned down. Something about Taylor mandating that all stoves be evaluated for efficiency, and when they lit the pilot light, it caught fire, and the whole house burned down."

"Wow, we really need a better fire department in town," Rory interjected.

"I'm not finished."

"I didn't think you were."

"What, that isn't weird enough?"

"Our stove might blow up if expected to work efficiently. It's sort of testy that way."

"That's true. But that wasn't the weird part anyway. The weird part was, Luke was excited. Very excited. Through the roof excited."

"About your house burning down? Why?"

"Because, that meant he could have me move in with him. To the teeny, tiny office apartment."

"Yeah, 'cause that would happen," Rory scoffed.

"I know, and I was telling him this, and all of a sudden we're yelling at each other about Costco trips and socks in the oven," she rambled for a moment then took a breath. "Then, he broke up with me, and I had to sleep in the gazebo."

"That would never happen—someone else would take you in. Like Babette," she insisted.

"Rory!"

"You aren't going to break up again. You aren't going to have to live in Luke's teeny, tiny apartment. Though I would suggest never going to Costco together," she wrinkled her nose at the thought.

"This isn't funny!"

"Mom, it's early, and you aren't the only one having weird dreams."

"You're having weird dreams, too?"

"Wait, what time is it there?"

"Four in the morning."

"Are you at home?"

"Not exactly."

"Where are you?"

"In the diner."

"At four in the morning?"

"Well, I stayed at Luke's and I didn't want him to hear me freaking out, so I came down here!"

"Okay, Mom, obviously your dream was telling you that you are afraid of moving in with Luke because you've never had to do that, live with someone else."

"Yeah, but did my house have to burn down?" she sniffed.

"Look, if you're so concerned about it, talk to Luke. He'll make you feel better."

"But, he's a boy. I'm not sure I can live with a boy."

"Maybe he doesn't want that, either."

Rory heard the silence over the line. The absence of a comeback worried her.

"Mom?"

"What if he doesn't?" she sounded really upset now. Not just freaked, but terrified.

"Mom, calm down. This is Luke. He'd do anything to make you happy, as long as you can make up your mind about what that is."

"Yeah. You're right. How are you always right?"

"I have experience in your dream-world."

"I should be helping you, too. Want to tell me your dream?"

"No. Mine was, nothing. I barely remember it," she lied.

"Was it about Logan?"

Rory bit her lip, not wanting to admit it. She'd called the relationship off; she wasn't supposed to be letting him slip into her mind, even unconsciously. Besides, had the dream really been about Logan? It certainly didn't seem like at the end, and that just confused her even more. She'd had a good time with Tristan last night, but it was clear that neither of them wanted anything more than friendship. They were just old friends.

"Sort of."

"Oh, honey. This must be rough on you. Have you talked to him yet?"

"No. Not yet. Listen, I need to go, I'm meeting a friend for coffee. And you should get back to bed before Luke wakes up."

"Yeah. I'll talk to you later?"

"Definitely. Night, Mom."

"Morning, honey," she giggled, and then the sound of the dial tone hit Rory's ear. She closed her phone and looked around her room. She'd sat back on top of the covers as she listened to her mother and drank her water. It was late morning, and she figured Tristan would be there to collect her sometime soon. She needed to get ready. Going back to sleep didn't sound very appealing now at any rate.

XXXX

She opened the door while he was still knocking. She opened the door, holding all her belongings, obviously ready to walk out the door.

"Wow, I take it you're ready to go?"

"You know what they say, always be prepared."

"I didn't know you were a Boy Scout," he smiled.

"Hey, where's my coffee?" she eyed him carefully.

"Uh, about that," he frowned.

"Tristan, you promised me coffee," she narrowed her eyes at him.

"I just got up, and I figured we could get it on the way out to sightsee," he said quickly.

"Oh. Well, I suppose I can let it slide, this once. It's dangerous to promise coffee and not deliver upon said promise."

"I'll remember that for the future. Now, if we stand here in the doorway much longer, it'll be considered rude for you not to invite me in."

"No, I'm ready. Let's go get coffee," she insisted, and he stepped back a half a step to let her move out and shut the door behind her. She was fumbling with her key, trying to lock the door when Dan's voice boomed out as he greeted them, making her jump. Tristan rested his hands on her waist, to steady her, and she heard him let out a soft chuckle.

"Sorry, did I scare you?"

"No, no, I just—I'm sort of jumpy."

"Right. Well, I was just going to invite you guys to an intramural soccer game later today."

"Oh, I don't play sports," she shook her head.

"What about you?" Dan asked Tristan.

"I played soccer for a few years. What time is the game?"

"Not 'til six. See you there?"

"Uh, sure. Why not?" he shrugged, turning to Rory. "You wanna come cheer me on?" he practically purred.

"I don't cheer."

"Guess it's just me, then," he smiled at Dan.

"Cool. Have fun, kids," he moved on from the pair and headed to post a flier on the hall bulletin board.

"So, not a team player?" Tristan asked as they moved to the stairwell.

"I've found my participation in team sports to be bad for potential teammates' health."

He raised an eyebrow and gave her a side-long glance.

"It's true! I'm a klutz, completely uncoordinated!"

"Maybe if someone taught you, you'd be better. It just takes some practice," he assured her.

"Well, getting all sweaty has never really appealed to me," she added, as if to explain that she wasn't going to cave on the sports participation decision.

He stopped in mid-stride, looking at her. "Well, I am sorry to hear that," he said trying to dodge her open hand as she moved to smack him.

"That's not what I meant!"

"Hey, you're the one that said it," he rationalized.

She said nothing, just continued to walk. He was right—she had said it, but it'd been him to make a dirty double-entendre out of it. She walked along in silence, knowing he was looking at her. She could feel his amused gaze.

"What?" she asked, not being able to take it any longer.

"Nothing. I was just wondering if a large coffee will bring you out of this self-righteous funk."

Her mouth dropped open. "You did not just say that!"

His glee nearly leaped off his face. He couldn't contain it in his facial features. "Gonna need some whipped cream, too?"

"I hate you," she said finally, not wanting to admit defeat. It'd been a long time since she'd had a sparring partner, other than Logan. So few people could spar with her, taking her on both childishly and intellectually.

"Well, as long as we're clear about that," he nodded, steering them into a coffee shop.

XXXX

"You know, we don't have to do all the touristy things," she said finally. They'd seen Buckingham Palace, the Tower of London, and now Big Ben. "I've seen all this kind of stuff."

"Well, any good tour guide would make sure you saw all these things. They are worth seeing more than once," he pointed out.

"True, she said, taking the last drink of her large caramel latte. It was the best part, as all the caramel syrup tended to sink to the bottom, leaving the sugary sweetness coating her lips as she pulled the cup away from her mouth. She licked her lips slowly, savoring the taste.

He was openly watching her. He'd never seen anything so innocently erotic in his whole life. He couldn't move—he couldn't even blink. She was killing him and she didn't even know it.

"Tristan, you okay?"

"I, uh, yeah. I'm good," he cleared his throat, and put his hands on her shoulders to steady himself. And he couldn't just watch her do that and not touch her. He figured it was safer to touch her shoulders than to push her up against the stone wall behind her and kiss her, sampling the remains of her coffee for himself. "So, lunch?"

His face was determined, and he looked into her eyes. Suddenly, her cell phone rang in her pocket. Her brow furrowed, and she looked down at her phone.

"Ohmygod," she said under her breath. She backed up away from his reach.

"You okay?"

"Uh, yeah. I have to get this, it might be Mom," she said.

"Yeah, sure. Take your time. I'll just roam around," he said, turning away from her and meandering off into a crowd of people. She didn't need to look at the caller ID. She knew it wasn't Lorelai. This was too much of a coincidence.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Ace."

"Logan, you shouldn't be calling."

"You haven't called me back. You got my message?"

"I did, I've just been busy."

"So, let me come to you," he said.

"No, you can't come out here. Do you understand me?"

"Rory, you can't just walk away from this. It's not going to go away just because you're studying in London."

"Well, if that's true, then you can wait until I get back."

"That's four months."

"Yes, it is."

"I can't go four months without seeing you, without touching you."

"Logan, don't do this," her voice was pleading.

"You really want me to stay away?"

"I need to think, and have this experience."

She heard him let out a long breath. "Being with me doesn't mean giving up stuff like that," he told her.

"I know you want to believe that," she sighed.

"You just need time," he argued.

"Then give it to me, please," she said, closing her eyes.

"Okay. You've got it." His tone wasn't angry, it was accepting.

She waited for him to say something else, but he didn't. For the second time that day, she heard the dial tone in her ear, and she snapped her phone shut. Tristan was wandering back towards her, having seen her get off the phone.

"Hey, your Mom?"

"Uh, no. Not my Mom."

He noted her closed-off tone, and decided to let it drop.

"Still hungry?"

"Uh, not really."

"You okay?" he asked, putting his hand on her arm, brushing his thumb over the skin lightly.

"I'm fine. Fine. Where to next?" she asked, trying to focus on the current moment. Trying to forget Logan's voice, and Tristan's eyes from her dream. It was too uncanny, the events of the day so far.

"Did you ever get to Greenwich Park?"

"No."

"Ah, well, then that is where we're off to next," he said as they headed off towards their next destination. He kept checking on her in their silence, wondering if her exterior was going to break. He wasn't sure who this guy was that she was obviously thinking of, but there was one thing he was sure of. He was the guy that was going to take her mind off whoever it was.


	5. Chapter 5

AN: Sorry for the delay. Work sucks. 'Nuff said. Oh, and those of you hoping Logan will become a major factor—nuh-uh. This is a Trory. Logan may or may not be mentioned again as a foil, but Tristan is our hero here, folks. On with the show.

The air in the bathroom reminded her of a sauna. From near constant use of the showers, the air was thick, warm, and coating like a blanket. The permanently cracked window did nothing to decrease the humidity. Rory pulled her robe tighter around her still damp form as she emerged into the cool, dry air of the hallway. She still wasn't quite used to seeing and being seen in just a robe by near strangers of both sexes. She bee-lined for her door, only to meet Tristan and Dan halfway there.

It was clear they'd just come from the soccer match. Both wore t-shirts and sport shorts, and they were drenched in sweat. Both sported smiles, and she couldn't help but return the gesture, despite her discomfort due to her state of undress and the sparkle that hit Tristan's eyes when he took in the view of her in such a state.

"Did you guys win?"

"We obliterated them," Tristan nodded.

"This guy is amazing—have you ever seen him play?" Dan asked.

Rory shook her head and looked at Tristan in amusement as Dan continued to sing his praises.

"The other team never knew what hit them—especially Sarah and Elisa," he hit Tristan's shoulder.

Tristan watched Rory's bemused blue eyes harden before looking away altogether. He spoke up quickly.

"Dan has this painfully embarrassing crush on Elisa. She's the second floor monitor. I was just helping him out," he explained.

"You practically had them fawning all over you! No one can resist this guy," Dan continued, much to Tristan's displeasure.

"I'm sure someone can," Tristan interjected, still looking at Rory. She looked back up at him then, startled, and he felt her search his eyes for meaning.

"Well, I'm sure you guys will have fun on your dates," she said tersely, having found no proof his words weren't just hypothetical.

"I should go shower off, I'll see you guys later," Tristan made a quick escape.

"Yeah, I should … go, too," Rory smiled awkwardly at Dan. He watched her go, having caught all the silent exchanges between her and Tristan. He'd had a feeling when he first witnessed their exchange in the lounge that there was something unspoken between them, underlying the tension. If they wanted to ignore it, he supposed that was their business. He just shook his head and wandered off to his room.

XXXX

Now completely dry and ready to settle into bed with her book, Rory reached out to turn her bedside lamp on. It flickered brightly, and then went dark again. She clicked it twice more, to no avail. Groaning, she slipped out of bed and out her door.

She knocked on the door frame to Dan's room, as his door was wide open. He sat with his back facing her, at his computer. He craned around at her politeness.

"Yeah?"

"The light bulb in my lamp burned out. Any chance you could scrounge up a spare?"

"Is there a Pop tart involved?" he grinned.

"Anything for you," she smiled.

"No problem," he got up, moving to a closet on the other end of his room. "Can I ask you a question?"

She stepped into his room further to hear him better. "Uh, sure."

"Did that bother you—my talking about Tristan and those girls?"

She looked up at him and frowned. "Of course not."

"I mean, I expected you to show up with him, and when I asked, he said you two were just friends, and that he thought you were still sort of wrapped up with some other guy," he informed her as he handed her a fresh bulb.

"He's right. We are just friends."

"And the other guy?"

"That's over."

Dan nodded, noting the confusion that clouded her eyes. He couldn't help but wonder if it were over Tristan or this mystery heart-breaker. "In that case, you should come to the next game. Lots of eligible hot guys with no shirts."

"Thanks. I'll keep that in mind," she nodded, turning to exit his room.

She meant to turn left, back to her own bed and half-read novel, but her feet instead steered her right. Just a few doors down, she found another open door. This time her view included Tristan pacing back and forth in shorts and socks, talking on the phone. She didn't want to interrupt, so instead of knocking, she just waved when his attention moved to her.

He nodded and waved her in. She heard him tell his caller that they could finish this later. He hung up and smiled.

"You didn't have to do that."

"Not a problem, in fact, I should be thanking you. That was my father."

"You don't like talking to him?"

"I don't like being talked at," he clarified.

"Oh."

"What can I do for you?" he asked, before his eyes fell on the light bulb in her hand. "Did you come to service me?"

She turned a deep shade of pink, more mauve than red. She looked down at the object in her hand.

"This is for me, mine burned out."

He smiled at her reaction, still waiting to see to what he owed this visit.

"I went to Dan's room, to get a spare. He mentioned that you thought I was dating someone."

"Did he?"

"But I'm not. Not at all," she went on, her tone adamant.

He wondered why she was in here telling him all of this if she wasn't trying to give him an in. But this wasn't just some girl that he could easily sway. This was the girl that worked hard at showing him how she could say no.

"Okay."

"Not that I'm opposed to dating. Dating is good."

Was he cracking her resolve with his indifference? The less he gave her, the more she babbled. Ms. Calm, Cool, and Collected was definitely flustered. He felt a true spark of possibility ignite.

"I've always thought so."

"Right," she pointed at him with the light bulb.

"So?"

"So, I meant to tell you earlier—I got my internship."

"The BBC? That's great, we should go celebrate," he stepped forward to hug her.

She returned the gesture, her hands grasping onto the smooth expanse of skin that covered the toned muscles of his back. Her face was pressed into his shoulder due to their height difference, and for the first time she noticed how masculine his scent was. She closed her eyes for a moment, before she gathered her wits.

"You have a date tomorrow," she reminded him as she pulled away.

"Because dating is good," he teased her, and she shoved him back playfully.

"What about the next night?"

"Is Rory Gilmore asking me out?" he was partially teasing, but partially incredulous.

"You suggested this, I'm just defining its constructs."

He smiled, not a taunting smirk, but showing genuine happiness.

"The day after tomorrow," he agreed.

"Good."

She felt as unclothed as he was, finding it impossible not to take advantage of this first opportunity to see him in this state of undress. She told herself that it was as much as he'd wear if swimming, and felt the blush creep up from under her ears as she realized that there was a great possibility of seeing him in less in the bathroom at some point this semester.

"Rory?"

"Yeah?"

"You okay?"

She'd been openly checking him out for a good minute. Not that he minded, any sign of encouragement from her made his day. This short time together this evening was enough to make his week.

"I'm good."

"I'm buying you a thesaurus."

"What?" she looked at him quizzically.

"That is like the fifteenth time you've said 'good.'"

"Oh, right," she laughed nervously. "I should go."

"If you must," he consented with a sad smile.

Her brow scrunched together at his words, and he pointed to the phone. "Now I have to call my father back."

She smiled, nodding in understanding. He watched her go, completely intrigued by their conversation. There was no denying this girl wanted him to ask her out. Not that he didn't want to—but with their history he wanted to test the waters, and, in all honesty, to make her work for it a little bit. She'd been the one girl to break his heart, the one he could never get. He didn't need that trouble again. The problem was, it seemed he was inevitably going to collide with it whether he liked it or not. He'd much rather enjoy it this time around.

XXXX

Rory all but ran to her room and picked up the phone. She waited impatiently, pacing as Tristan had been doing, fearing only getting the voicemail.

"Lorelai speaking."

"I may or may not have a date with Tristan."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"I'm not sure."

"How could you not be sure? Did he ask you out?"

"Well, no, not so much."

"Did you ask him out?"

"Not exactly."

"I'm sorry, what factors here indicate to you that you're going on a date?"

"You don't understand."

"No, not at all," she concurred.

"It was—he was being all weird—he had his shirt off, and I couldn't think, I kept repeating myself, and he said something about us going to celebrate my internship, and I said the day after tomorrow, and then I left."

"You got the internship? That's wonderful!"

"Mom, you're not focusing here."

"I'm just happy for you, you really wanted that!"

"I know, but we're going out, and I'm not sure of exactly what that means."

"What do you want it to mean?"

"I'm not sure."

"Maybe it's too soon."

"No, I'm not unsure because of Logan. Tristan isn't someone I ever thought I'd date. He's infuriating, and he makes me nuts."

"You've used such words in describing past beaus. Sounds like someone has it bad. You said he was shirtless?"

"Yeah. So?"

"Did he touch you at any point while half-naked?"

"We hugged."

"Uh-huh. And he smelled really good, I assume."

"Are you enjoying this?"

"Look, would it be so bad to see where this goes? What's the worst that could happen?"

"We could go out and have a great time, only to find out at the end of the date that he doesn't like me that way, and he just wants to be friends."

"Has he ever given you any indication that he just wants to be just friends, nothing more?"

"At my request."

"Well, then I wouldn't worry."

"Really?"

"I mean, you've put him off many times in the past, probably not being very nice to him, so I'd dress a little on the sultry side to make sure he got the hint," she joked.

"Mom, stop."

"Just be honest with him. And if he still doesn't get it, what with your brilliant speaking ability in his presence, jump him."

"You speak from experience?"

"How do you think I got Luke? No guy is that dumb."

"How is that going?"

"Uh, good. It's fine. We're just fine."

"Uh-oh. What happened?"

"Nothing."

"You didn't talk him yet?"

"It's too weird. I'm worried about this for nothing, for all I know."

"Probably."

"He'll get all weird, then we'll be all funky, it'll take awhile to get our rhythm back, and I like our rhythm right now."

"We're quite a pair, aren't we?"

"That we are. You going to bed?"

"Yeah. I'll talk to you later?"

"Always."


	6. Chapter 6

AN: Back again. Had some keyboard issues—the laptop seems to have half-died, got the old plug in keyboard set up. Very annoying.

Her heartbeat quickened more than a little bit, knowing that he was walking past her shower stall. She recognized his shower shoes, a must-have item in the communal shower area, as he walked past her curtained off area. She heard him drop his shower caddy on the tile floor in the next stall, and she realized he was in the process of disrobing, right at this very moment. She'd seen most of his chiseled physique the other day in his room. She could picture his abs rippling as he shirked off his robe and hung it up on the hook. She could almost still feel the warmth radiating off his skin even before she came into contact with it that night he hugged her in his room. It would be even hotter now in the steam-filled bathroom. He might already be damp, beads of sweat building up at the nape of his neck beginning to roll slowly down. . . . She ducked her head under the hot stream of pelting water in her curtained off stall; desperate to drown out all the images she didn't need swimming through her head.

He'd gone out last night, on the double date with Dan and the girls from the floor below them. She'd surmised they'd had a successful evening. She knew they came in late, as she had been up half the night reading, unable to sleep for some strange reason. She'd heard the two guys' voices around 2:30am, as they headed back to their respective rooms. She'd never had a date last until 2:30am that wasn't to be filed under at least a four star rating. It made the worries about the meaning of what tonight would be increase—seeing as she hadn't mentioned their 'date' since the night before last. He mentioned something in passing last night, as he and Dan left to pick up the other girls, that he'd pick her up around seven, but that was all. She just wished he'd gotten home sooner last night.

"Rory?"

She poked her head out of the water flow, shaking the water out of her ears. She had to be full on hallucinating now. Tristan wasn't calling her name from the next shower stall. It was not happening.

"Rory?"

Or maybe it was.

"Tristan?"

"Do you have any extra shampoo I can borrow?"

She hesitated, trying to figure out in what universe this scenario would be considered plausible. Tristan was buck naked in the shower next to her, asking her to hand him her shampoo? This wasn't normal life. This was like the beginning to one of those insane stories in the front of men's magazines.

"How did you even know I was right here?"

"Because no one else I know would have a School House Rock bath towel. Very cute, by the way."

She turned pink in the shower, and not from the hot water that was nearly scalding her skin. She reminded herself that he couldn't see her, and tried to carry on the conversation, such as it was.

"You don't want my shampoo."

"I ran out, I need some. Just hand it over."

"It's girly."

"How can shampoo be girly?"

"It's peach-mango."

"Who puts fruit in shampoo?"

"Girls like to smell pretty!"

She heard him sigh. "If you don't want it, fine."

"No, hand it over," he grumbled.

"I'm all soapy," she protested.

There was no answer for a beat, and she suddenly realized the kinds of mental images, that should he have been successful in keeping at bay until this very moment, that were sure to be flooding his mind now.

"So rinse off, I can wait," he managed. "Or I can just come over there—I'm all wet, but I've yet to work up a lather."

Was he teasing her? If so, it was working. She felt another kind of heat swell up from her core, and she pressed her forehead to the cool tiled back wall of the shower stall.

"Rory?"

"Okay, come and get the shampoo."

"If you insist," she could hear the smile in his voice. She heard his water shut off, and then the scuffling of his shower shoes against the tile outside her shower curtain.

"Where is it?"

"Hang on, it's in here," she said, grabbing the bottle and shoving her hand out the curtain towards him.

He took it from her hand, and she withdrew her hand back behind the curtain quickly. She heard no further movement from him. His feet were clearly still in front of her curtain.

"Did you need something else?"

"I was smelling the shampoo. Is this really going to make my hair smell like a dessert topping?"

"Take it or leave it."

"Fine. You can come visit me when you're done, to get it back."

"Great," she half groaned.

He said nothing in return, but she heard him leave her area, and she was able to let the breath she'd been holding out. She finished rinsing off quickly, and pulled back her curtain slowly, grabbing her towel that had indeed fallen on the floor, alerting him to her whereabouts. She dried off, gathered her shower items, and moved to stand outside his curtain.

"Tristan?"

"Yeah."

"Are you finished with the shampoo?"

"Sure, come on in," he said, and she moved into the first curtained off area. She jumped as his shampoo-covered head stuck out of the next curtain.

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you. You really are jumpy, aren't you?"

"I just thought you'd hand it to me."

"That's no fun. Come in here and get it," he raised an eyebrow as his lips curved up in a playful grin.

"Tristan!" she admonished him, not in the mood to play around when it came to him being naked. It made her more than uneasy, what with their might-be date this very evening. Not that she had the nerve to clear that matter up right now either.

"You're so tense. I could rub your shoulders, under the hot water—really works wonders."

"I'll pass. Shampoo, please."

"Excuse me, but what is going on behind curtain number three?"

Dan's voice startled both of them, and Rory immediately turned pinker than she had been just seconds before. Tristan held in a laugh at her reaction.

"Nothing, just some neighborly sharing," he offered.

"Well, unless you're exchanging a cup of sugar back there, one of you needs to exit the stall, in a decently covered condition," Dan said, hating to be the stickler, but having no real choice.

"Damn. And here I thought I might wear you down," he winked at her and handed over the shampoo.

She narrowed her eyes at him, and hurried out of the stall, to face an amused Dan. She held up the bottle, to show him of her innocence.

"This isn't what it looks like."

"Look, whatever was going on in there, I can't be encouraging people to think it's kosher to share shower time. This isn't a bathhouse."

"We weren't—I mean, I wouldn't have—he just needed," she tried over and over, nothing sounding quite right.

"Dismissed, Gilmore."

"Thanks," she ducked away to brush her teeth, Tristan's laughter audible from his stall.

XXXX

"Wait, so, you caught showering together?" Lorelai busted out laughing.

"Mom, stop."

"Well, maybe it's just me, but I'm pretty sure any boy that offers to shower with you wants any outing with you to be a date."

"He was going out with someone else, just last night."

"He wasn't showering with her, now was he?"

"It's not allowed. Not that I would even want it to be."

"Hey, don't knock it 'til you've tried it," she said, but suddenly thought better of her comment. "I mean, if you have tried it, I don't want to hear about it—ever—but if you do at some point in the future, preferably then I wouldn't hear about it either."

"Mom, calm down. These are not details I'd share."

"Good."

"So, you seem chipper. Did you talk to Luke about living together?"

"Well, funny you should mention that."

"Why?"

"This morning, Luke had stayed over, and he forgot to bring his toothbrush with him. He was all grumbly 'cause I didn't have a spare, and he complained about the back and forth and the constant need to carry his belongings around with him like a nomad and how it was crazy that we were essentially living in two separate places."

"It is crazy. Why don't you just have doubles—it's much easier to have a toothbrush that you can just leave at the guy's place."

"Gah!-Details, stop."

"Sorry. Go on. What did you say in return?"

"I agreed with him."

"Wait, does that mean—what does that mean?"

"I'm not sure. He got really quiet after I agreed with him. I don't think he expected me to."

"Huh. So, you're both big chickens?"

"It would seem so. He said 'Well, I guess that's a conversation,' then mumbled something about a bread shipment and left. It was really early."

"Someone needs to smack the both of you."

"There's something else. I don't know if I should tell you."

"What?"

"Logan stopped by."

"What, when, why?"

"He's not doing good, kid. He just wanted to talk. He misses you. He wanted advice about how much space to give you, and just wanted to be near things that reminded him of you, I think."

"You told him to back off, right?"

"I told him that if you guys were meant to be together, it would happen, but he needed to let you come to him. That once you set your mind to something, it's unstoppable. That if he really loved you, he'd respect your wishes."

"Thanks."

"He really seems to love you."

"I know."

"So, that's all the news. I promise. No other ex-boyfriend news."

"Good."

"So, your date starts soon?"

"It's not a date. Officially."

"Right. Be sure and mock his fruity hair for me," she added.

"I will. Oh, that's him now. Bye."

"Bye."

Rory hung up quickly and smoothed her dress before opening the door. She let him step inside, and he got his first good look at her dorm room.

"Hey, I just need to pull my shoes on."

"No problem," he said, sitting on the edge of her bed as she opened the closet door to grab her shoes. He noticed her stacks of books that nearly filled the closet and his eyes went large.

"It's like a public library in there," he said, standing up next to her, looking at all the titles.

"Oh, yeah. They go everywhere I do."

"That's one hell of a heavy security blanket," he quipped.

"Okay, enough looking at my closet."

"Don't like me poking about in your room?"

"No, it's just strange."

"As strange as this morning?" he smiled.

"Do we have reservations somewhere?" she dodged his question.

"We do. You look nice, by the way."

"Thanks," she ducked past him, moving to grab her purse. "I wasn't sure if this was—I mean, how fancy a celebration this would be," she covered.

"Hey, a big fancy internship deserves a big fancy celebration, does it not?"

"I'll be a peon. Nothing about my job duties will be fancy."

He shrugged. "But it'll be exciting to you, right? This is what you've always been itching to do?"

The fact that he got it—he got her—made her want to kiss him. It wasn't a romantic inclination, it was bigger than that. She felt drawn to him in an indescribable way. She looked at him, wondering if he knew just how astute his words were.

"Right. Exactly."

"Then, let's go celebrate, Ms. Intern."

She smiled, and took his outstretched hand. Once outside, they immediately stopped at the curb, and he hailed a cab. He opened the door for her, and they climbed in. He gave the address to the driver, and sat back next to her.

"Not close enough to walk?"

"Nope."

"So, did you guys have fun last night?" she hedged, trying to sound breezy.

"Dan did. He and Elisa really hit it off. Though he made a bit of a fool out of himself at the end of the night."

"What happened?" she asked, now more interested as he stressed the fact that Dan had had fun.

"Well, we went for ice cream after the movie, and I told them your ice cream cone story."

She nodded, not seeing what was so wrong with that, unless Dan was a biter too.

"Let's just say he looked like a five year old—he had chocolate ice cream all over his face by the time he was done with his cone."

Rory erupted into giggles at the double meaning, and put her hand on his shoulder to steady herself. "Well, I'm impressed that you braved another cone so quickly—and that you repeated the lore."

"Hey, no, I had mine in a dish."

More giggles. He smiled at her enjoyment. Her unconscious touching of him didn't suck either. She really did look lovely—in a flowing dress that stopped just under her knees, her hair half swept up off her neck. Her laughter just accentuated her beautiful features.

"Well, it sounds like you had fun."

"That's because you didn't have to listen to my date."

"Not a soul mate?"

"Not even close. She didn't know who the Beatles were."

Rory stopped and her mouth dropped open in shock. "What? How is that even possible?"

"I have no idea," he shook his head. "We were talking about the day trips we wanted to make while here in England, and Dan mentioned Liverpool—it just got ugly from there."

"I can imagine," she giggled.

They pulled up outside the restaurant, and made their way in. True to his word, he'd made reservations, as they were whisked immediately to their table. They were on a second floor balcony of some sort. The bottom floor had a band set up, and a large dance floor area. It was more of an upscale club than a restaurant.

He leaned in and filled her in. "You like Interpol? I heard they were doing an impromptu show here tonight."

Her mouth gaped open, for what felt like the billionth time today. "You're kidding."

He shook his head. "Nope."

"This is amazing," she said, looking into his pleased blue eyes.

"Well, let's just make sure my sources are right and we aren't out to be serenaded with some cheesy cover band singing show tunes or something equally horrific."

"You mean it might not be the Beatles?" she deadpanned.

He just laughed, enjoying the way she seemed comfortable, pleased, and ready for anything. They fell into conversation, both with their fruit-scented hair, enjoying the other's company regardless of the amazing music, five-star food, or whatever label one might put on this evening. Right now it was just important to be in each other's company.


	7. Chapter 7

AN: Back again. Work was slow, which you all should know by now means time to write. . . the only good aspect of my job. Enjoy!

It'd been her suggestion to walk back to the dormitory from the club. The entire evening had been perfect—she'd forgotten what it was like to enjoy someone's company with ease. There was nothing weighting her down, or hiding in the back of her mind. The only unspoken consideration was the gnawing excitement in her stomach at the possibility of a goodnight kiss. Walking back suspended both her invigorating feeling and his presence in her evening.

Halfway back, her pace slowed considerably as she was in heels and her feet began to ache. He paused and suggested they sit for a bit to rest, knowing she must be wanting to cut off her feet by this point. Those shoes, while very lovely, weren't the best for long walks. They were made for wearing for short periods and being flung across a room on the way to the bed. She smiled at his offer and they sat down on a bus stop bench.

"We can get a cab," he offered again.

"It's such a beautiful night, it'd be a shame not to enjoy it."

"So, are you?"

"Enjoying myself? Absolutely."

"And I bet you're surprised at that, aren't you?"

She blinked and indicated she didn't quite understand his comment.

"You used to loathe spending time with me," he reminded her.

"That's not true, I just," she hesitated in disbelief that she was going to admit this to him—she hadn't had that much to drink tonight. "I didn't trust myself around you."

She had a way of surprising him like no one else on earth. He was completely stunned by her comment.

"What do you mean?"

"You want an example?" she giggled softly.

He nodded, not trusting his capacity for speech at the given moment. He needed to pull it together, and he needed more information.

"I guess I didn't realize why my reaction to you was so strong until you kissed me at that party. I'd never let my feelings for someone cloud my better judgment before, but around you, it was like I didn't have a choice. When you left school, and you told me that you would've kissed me if Dean hadn't been there—I knew right then and there that I would have let you kiss me, regardless. And I'm not like that—I'm rational, and I put other people's feelings first, I think things out."

The intensity with which he watched her grew as she explained his effect on her. He could say in one word what she'd been so afraid of—lust. He wondered if she still suffered from such afflictions in his presence. There was really only one way to find out.

"Well, if I'd known you wouldn't have slapped me, I would have kissed you anyway."

"So, what's stopping you now?" she asked innocently.

He couldn't deny her logic, and thus answered her question by pulling her into his arms without hesitation. Perhaps he was proving to her that her fears were well-founded, but he didn't care. His intent hadn't been to make her lose herself in him—he'd just wanted the relief of her lips on his—but he felt the shift in the urgency of the kiss. In their urgency for one another. It wasn't until he paused for a breath that he realized they were outside on a bench, his hands in her hair and hers under the hem of his shirt. He smiled, and then laughed as she too realized their indiscretion. She buried her face into his chest, a little too embarrassed to check for anyone who might have seen them.

"You ready for that cab now?" he whispered, his voice low and suggestive.

She nodded, looking up into his eyes. She knew that he saw her willingness to continue, as well as the 'I told you so' at the proving of her point. He had known it would most likely be intense, their visceral reactions to one another, but nothing quite like what it was.

He obtained a cab, and helped her into it before following closely behind. Neither spoke during the short ride, but she hadn't let go of the hand he'd offered as she got into the back of the car. After a kiss like that, on a date that had gone so well, normally hand-holding would have been a step skipped, in place of his body over hers, kissing every exposed inch of skin in a preview of the skills he'd unleash once back at her place. Making her practically taste the anticipation of what his body was able to do to hers.

It hit him, as he stroked her palm with his thumb sending pleasured shocks up her arm, that he didn't want to skip steps with her. He'd never had a date that he wished wouldn't end, normally eager to hasten the outing so that he could get back to any darkened room with a bed. He'd never kissed anyone that left such a craving to duplicate that single sensation over and over again, not heightening his pleasure for pleasure's sake, but almost in awe of the kiss itself. He knew her holding his hand was her proper way of maintaining contact with him until they could be sufficiently alone. He was feeling the difference with her, one that he knew would exist, but he was just now realizing how much he would be falling under her spell.

Once they reached her door, he couldn't stop himself from cradling her face in his hands, and kissing her yet again. Her lips were soft and inviting, and he couldn't seem to get enough of the sensation of their moving against his. On an intake of breath, she hesitated and looked up into his eyes instead of rejoining his mouth again.

"That was definitely worth the wait," she whispered, smiling in a shy manner.

"Yes, it was," he concurred, leaning in closer, but not kissing her.

"Do you want to come in?" she bit her lip, and he wondered how often a girl like her made such an invitation. He couldn't imagine it was routine—she seemed almost embarrassed, yet just brazen enough to get the words out.

"I want," he wondered when his head had gained control of this conversation, and when it had decided to forsake him, "to do this right."

"Have you been accused of doing it wrong before?" she giggled softly, but stopped when she saw the lack of levity in his eyes.

"I want to take you out on an official date," he started. "I want to anticipate every agonizingly exquisite moan you'll make, I want to picture how your face will contort as you writhe with pleasure underneath me," he continued. His voice had taken on a huskier tone, one that made her feel like grabbing him by his collar and forcing him into her room, but she remained still, praying he'd go on.

"And I'm afraid if we do this now, we're going to miss something."

"Oh."

It was all she could manage, as she got the feeling that doing this right meant him taking initiative tonight. She had to admit he intrigued her, with his words and his actions. He was a gentleman, which she hadn't ever imagined. He could use both his language and his touch to drive her to the breaking point—that she'd imagined.

"So, are you free next weekend?"

"I am."

"So, it's a date?"

"It's a date," she nodded, looking back down at his lips, contemplating if she should dare to risk one more kiss not breaking him. She couldn't let him have all the control she decided, and put her hands on his shoulders, pulling herself up just high enough to brush her lips against his. It was a playful kiss, offering him a taste of what he was in store for as well. He picked her up by her waist, making it easier for her to deepen the kiss. A low moan escaped his throat as she ran her tongue over his lower lip before taking it between her teeth and biting it lightly when he parted his lips for her.

"You're trying to break my resolve?" his eyes sparkled.

"Just a little," she smiled. "Goodnight, Tristan."

"Night, Rory."

She opened her door and shut it slowly, leaving him standing there staring in wonder. He would be lying to say that he hadn't hoped for this to happen tonight, but he definitely hadn't planned on it. She deserved to celebrate her accomplishment, and he was glad to be the one there with her. The fact that this outing had escaladed to 'best date ever' status was what left him so dazed.

He walked slowly, aimlessly almost, down the hall, and stopped as he heard Dan call out to him.

"Tristan?"

He poked his head in the door, leaning against the doorframe and smiling stupidly. "Yeah?"

"What is wrong with you?"

"Wrong? Not a damn thing is wrong. In fact, I've never been more perfect."

"I can see that. Does this have something to do with a certain aspiring journalist we both know?"

"It's that obvious?"

"Only to those of us with eyes."

"We're going out next weekend."

"Wait—this nauseating joy is from her agreeing to go out with you?"

"So?"

"So, from the look on your face I was thinking you got lucky."

"I did. I got lucky enough to get a date with her next weekend."

"That is so not what I meant."

"Did you see Elisa?"

"We had dinner. Sarah evidently had a great time with you. Poor girl."

"Even if there was no such person as Rory Gilmore, I wouldn't have seen Sarah again. That was strictly wingman duties, for you, and more painful than most, I have to admit."

"Well, I'm just passing on the message. She's dying for you to call her."

"Guess it's going to be a terminal condition," he rolled his eyes.

"Gilmore has you roped down after one date?"

"I'm not roped down. I'm anxious for the next time I can see her."

"Is she this pathetic?"

"Night, man," he ignored his friend, leaving him to retire to his room for the evening.

Dan shook his head, amazed at how someone as confident and collected around women seemed transformed into a twitterpated, lovesick man, seemingly walking on clouds. And all this after both parties had sworn up and down this wasn't a 'real' date. He couldn't wait to see what happened after a real date.

XXXX

Rory checked her messages, not having been able to hear her phone ring all evening as the band had been incredible—loud and amazing. She was still in shock that Tristan had gotten such a good lead on the impromptu show at the club. She saw that she had one new message, and quickly checked it. Her mother sounded eerily calm, and told her to call as soon as she got in from her night out with Shower Boy.

"Must we call him Shower Boy?"

"Aww, you love him!"

"Why did you call?"

"You called."

"No, you called, and I'm answering your message."

"Oh, you need to talk about girl issues? Tampons and pantyhose?" Lorelai practically yelled into the phone.

"If Luke isn't standing right there, I'm going to have to add this to the list."

"Hang on," she hesitated. "Okay, yeah, I scared him to go upstairs."

"You're good at the scaring—and the scarring."

"Well, it's such a fine line," she sighed.

"That it is."

"So, tell me all about the date!"

"How do you know it was a date?"

"Because, you wouldn't be asking me not to taunt him if it weren't a date. You'd be helping me make up inventive names."

"It was perfect," she sighed happily.

"Meaning he kissed you."

"Yeah," she concurred dreamily.

"Did he do more than kiss you?"

"No, he was the perfect gentleman. He wanted to wait."

"Please don't tell me you offered and he had to decline," she groaned.

"Fine, I won't tell you."

"Rory!" she admonished

"Did you call me to chastise me?"

"No, I called to tell you the big news."

"Big news? I'm intrigued."

"We had the conversation."

"The moving in conversation?"

"Well, we really are past the 'where is this going' talk—we knew it was going somewhere that included us together, just where we'll be together is the big hang up point."

"Oh no."

"He likes living above the diner."

"It smells like onion rings."

"I know."

"I mean, while you and I can appreciate that fact, Luke hates fried foods."

"I know!"

"He wants you to move into the diner apartment?"

"Oh, no. He's willing to move in to my house, but keep some of his stuff at his place so he can sleep there if he ever has really early deliveries or he's doing inventory or something."

"Isn't that exactly what you're doing now?"

"Yes!"

"So, he wants nothing to change?"

"But, that means we were living together, and I didn't even know it! He's just going to buy an extra toothbrush."

"You sound upset."

"I'm upset that I didn't know we were living together. It snuck under my nose, and just happened. What's next, I wake up one morning to find a wedding ring on my left hand and an inhabited crib in your old room?"

"Somehow I think those things would be a bit more noticeable—unless you get really drunk."

She heard her mother sigh. "I haven't been that drunk in a really long time."

"Is this a tequila story?"

"Aren't they all?"

"So, crisis averted?"

"I just don't understand how this happened without my knowledge."

"Well, it's probably for the best, I mean, look how freaked out you got when you thought you had to deal with it."

"True. So, you're dating Tristan."

"You're getting so much better with those segues. And I'm going out with him again this weekend."

"Wow, already making plans in advance and holding off on sex. He sounds serious."

"It's one date," she said, rather unconvincingly trying to hide her glee.

"How good a kisser is he?"

"Oh, he's good."

"Getting out of Friday night dinner good?"

"Yes."

"Getting your internship good?"

"Yes."

"Shoe-shopping good?"

"Bone-melting good."

"Oh, wow."

"Yeah."

"So, it's really over, with Logan."

"That is what the whole breaking up with him was about, yes."

"Yeah, but you left a lot of hope in your wake, kid."

"Look, I'm single. I'm allowed to date, and Tristan is who I happen to be seeing right now."

"Hey, I'm on your side, I'm just trying to sort through the hordes of beautiful boys that are throwing themselves at your feet."

Rory rolled her eyes. "That is hardly the case. Tristan and I had sort of an unfinished business thing."

"And you're just finishing up that business?"

"I'm seeing where it goes. There's no harm in that… and he seems to really get me. He knows what I want in life, and there's this indescribable chemistry. . ."

"All this from a non-date?"

"Yeah."

"You're in so much trouble."

"I should get to bed, it's late. Tell Luke congratulations for me, and call me if you wake up with an infant."

"Will do. Night, Sweets."

"Night."


	8. Chapter 8

AN: Been working on my computer, well, the hubby is, and I've not had access to typing for extended amounts of time during these 'fix-it' sessions. Sorry for the delay. Thanks again and again for all the reviews, I love hearing all your comments.

Classes began a few days later, sending everyone suddenly back into the sudden rigors of a set schedule and under the constraints of deadlines. It was a palpable shift from the prior week of discovery and impromptu gatherings. Rory felt this as much as anyone, but she tended to thrive better under order and timetables. She was chipper amid the crowd of frenzied people, anxious to get their routines down. Hers was down instantaneously, as she moved from place to place. She was passing by Dan's room, on her way back to study, humming happily to herself.

"Hey!" came an accusatory voice coming from Dan's room.

She stopped and put her head in to see Dan and Tristan, books open and music blaring.

"Hey," she smiled more at Tristan than Dan. His smile formed quickly out of the frown he had been sporting, obviously concentrating on whatever it was that he had been focusing on. He patted the space next to him on Dan's bed, and she moved over to join him.

"Okay, first of all—there will be no funny business on my bed, I want to see all of your hands at all times."

Rory held in a smile, and Tristan shook his head. "Is there a second of all?" she asked.

"Why are you in such a good mood? Everyone is running around like chickens with their heads cut off, and you're practically skipping down the halls—what gives?"

She shrugged, and turned her attention to Tristan's book. It seemed to be going into great detail comparing the judicial systems of the United Kingdom and the United States. Tristan noted her shift in attention and closed his book.

"She likes school," he explained.

"Weirdo," Dan muttered, shaking his head.

"You know, you might study a little better without the ACDC blaring so loudly," she noted.

"You're making me sorry I called you in here," he warned.

She held up her hands, laughing. "I will stop being helpful, I promise. But I should get back to studying myself," she said, standing up to leave.

"Nope," Tristan said, grabbing her hips and pulling her back down to a seated position on the bed.

"GAH!" Dan yelled, pointing at their actions.

"Stay and study with us," Tristan encouraged.

"Can't. I have a lot of reading to do, and I can't do it with a rock concert distracting me."

"You're right. I need quiet. I'll join you," he attempted.

She listened to him, pretending to believe his good intentions. "No. But you should come by, in about an hour, for a study break," she hinted.

"Study break?" he asked, clearly intrigued.

"Mm-hmm. Bye boys," she said, jumping up and leaving the room quickly.

"You suck," Dan muttered, as Tristan flipped his book back open with a broad grin covering his face.

"Why do I suck? I have to go in there and attempt to restrain myself from tackling her."

Dan cocked his head, not quite understanding why he should be feeling so sorry for the other guy. "I'm sorry, but what?"

"I'm trying to take this slow."

"Why? Have you seen her?"

Tristan laughed. "Yeah, I have. Therein lies the problem."

"Why would you want to put anything concerning her off?"

"I have my reasons, okay?"

"Okay. . . so, if you don't want to touch her, why are you going to her room?"

"Because I want to see her."

"I was right before—you're pathetic."

"And you're jealous."

"Of you not having sex? Yeah, I'm real jealous."

Tristan threw a pillow from the bed at Dan's head, which he caught and dropped to the floor, going back to his book.

XXXX

Rory heard the knock at her door, and jumped up to answer it. She was rewarded by the sight of Tristan waiting on the other side. He looked into her room and then back at her.

"Looking for something?"

"Just noticing how serene it is in here. How do you study in dead quiet?"

"I relish peace and quiet. I grew up with very little of it."

"Interesting. So, I believe you promised me entrance for a well-deserved break."

"I did. And I have just the perfect thing," she said, standing back to let him into her room. She shut the door and moved over to her rack of DVDs. She picked one out and held it up for him to see.

"_Casablanca_?"

"Yep."

"You want to watch _Casablanca_?"

"Yep."

"Isn't that a movie that guys use to get into girls' pants?"

"I don't know, is it?" she smirked.

"You just have a sudden urge to see this film?"

"No, you have a need to see this film. It's a classic."

"How do you know I haven't seen this film?"

She looked at him in shock, shaking her head. "I can't believe you don't remember."

"Okay, you got me. I haven't the foggiest idea what you're talking about," he admitted, hoping his quick admission would lead to her quick explanation.

"At Chilton, you and I had the talk about you not dating after you had broken up with Summer at the party, and after we had our very first successful pleasant conversation, I quoted the last line of this movie—and you were completely confused. You asked me who Louie was."

"So, years ago I didn't understand a movie reference and you think that means now I haven't seen it?"

"Have you?"

"No. I've never needed the pretense of a movie to get into girls' pants," he smirked, causing her to swat at him.

"Well, there's a first time for everything, now isn't there?" she giggled and popped the movie into the player. She moved over to sit next to him, and pressed play with the remote control. She settled into her spot, her shoulder fitting against his perfectly.

"So, are there any movies you haven't seen?" he asked as the opening credits rolled.

"Shh, you're missing the movie."

"It's just the opening credits. Nothing important is happening."

"This whole movie is important."

"You could miss three minutes of any film and it would still make sense."

"So, you're saying the last three minutes of _Citizen Kane_ are unnecessary? Or _The Usual Suspects_?"

"Okay, now you're just getting picky. Is this some sort of psychological twist movie?"

"No."

"And I know how it ends, you've already spoiled it for me. Someone ends up friends with a guy named Louie."

She laughed. "Yes, that is the importance of _Casablanca_."

"So, you won't mind if I do this," he moved a section of hair back off her neck with one hand and brushed his lips against her neck. Her eyes fluttered shut at the contact and the feel of his warm breath against her skin as he pulled away.

"It's your loss—I've seen the movie," she managed.

"I'm willing to suffer, if you are," he said, turning her face in towards his with his other hand.

"I'd just hate you to continue to walk through life ignorant of important cultural experiences," she tried to keep up the banter while he continued to move closer to her, his lips parting slightly in preparation to kiss her.

"I can think of worse things to miss out on," he said finally, nudging his nose against hers in his path to her lips. She fell farther into him, giving into the feelings he instantly evoked in her. She shifted so that she was facing him, matching his level of intensity as it began to climb. They were completely alone, and nothing was there to hinder this from growing out of control but their own good sense.

Unfortunately the only sense that she was aware of was the heat that was shooting up her spine and the overwhelming desire to climb on top of him. He'd been the one to express the desire to follow a certain proper procedure, anyhow. As sweet as it was, the practicality of actually stopping the momentum he was currently building as he began doing some unidentifiable motion with his tongue that made her physically dizzy was nonexistent. She couldn't stop him if she were rendered speechless, now could she? Besides, he had started this. She moved to straddle his hips, coming up over him. He pulled back just as she began to settle down on his lap.

"What are you doing?" he asked, as if surprised.

"Are you kidding?" came her breathless response.

"I didn't mean for this to," he shook his head, running his hands down the sides of her body.

"Oh, uh, okay," her disappointment evident as she started to move away from him.

He held her hips in place, keeping her firmly on his lap. "I mean, we can, I just assumed that this would stay on the more. . . innocent side of things."

"You got innocent from our kisses?" she scrunched up her nose in confusion.

"No," he chuckled softly. "I wouldn't say that. But we're in real trouble if every kiss has to lead to something else. We'll never get out of your room."

"I never would have dreamed this would be a complaint of yours," she looked into his eyes, her amazement clear.

"Hey, I'm not complaining. Just tell me what you want. I am fully capable of taking you, right here, right now."

She bit her lip, looking into his very serious, very lust-filled eyes. His desire to 'do this right' had been touching, and a nice thought. They were going on their first official date this weekend—just a couple of days away. She could wait a couple of days if he could, surely.

"We should probably get back to the movie," she defeatedly decided.

"Right, the must-see classic," he nodded, placing one more soft kiss on her lips before resigning to let her move off of his lap. He held in a groan at the loss of heat against his lap. She resumed her position next to him, her shoulder burrowed into his as they turned their focus back to the screen. They watched in silence for a couple of minutes, and then he leaned down to whisper in her ear.

"Who are these people, and what is the big deal with him playing that song?"

She giggled. "I told you every part of this movie is important."

He shook his head, and grabbed the remote to rewind the movie. She protested, trying to grab it out of his hands. "You should have been paying attention the first time around," she laughed, reaching around him to pull it from his hands. He rolled over her, trying to take aim despite her pulling and tugging on his arm. He looked down at her lying underneath him, and the natural urge to dip down and press his body into hers became overpowering.

"But you keep distracting me," he informed her in a deep tone, the likes of which seemed to make some innermost part of her vibrate like a tuning fork.

"Precisely why I couldn't study with you," she nodded, wondering how good his resolve was.

"Rory," he groaned, looking her dead in the eyes as if warning her what was about to happen to her world. She wasn't going to stop him, he could see it plain as he could see the brilliant blue color of her eyes staring back up at him, just waiting for his next move.

He hovered just a breath away from her when her phone rang. They shared a smile, and he kissed her forehead.

"You should get that."

"Right," she nodded, reaching an arm over her head to grab it off her nightstand.

"Hello?"

"Hey, whatcha' doing?"

"Tristan."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm kidding. Well, sort of."

"I'm sorry, I'm going to have to call you back on account that my ears are bleeding."

"We're watching _Casablanca_. He's never seen it."

"Wow. That's two."

"Two what?"

"Men who made it past the legal drinking age without having seen the best Bogey movie ever."

"Who's the other?"

"Luke."

"That doesn't count. He hadn't seen anything before he dated you."

"That's not true."

"I'm sorry. He'd not seen anything that didn't have to do with _Star Trek_."

"Man, I wish that weren't true."

"Yeah, well, you're the one living with him."

"Ask Shower Boy if he knows who John Hughes is."

"Trust me, I've seen his _Breakfast Club_ audition. He's in the know."

"Well, you can never tell. Anyone who hasn't seen _Casablanca_ is truly beyond the reach of ruling out any of the standards that we take for granted."

"_Some Like it Hot_."

"_The Blues Brothers_."

"_Fast Times At Ridgemont High_."

"_Titanic_."

"Is it possible we watch too many movies?"

"No. And anyone who tells you otherwise is probably hiding horns and a tail under their trench coat."

"Noted."

"I have to call you and give you such sage advice now and again, after all, it's in my contract."

"So, don't take candy from strangers and beware anyone that tries to burn my Blockbuster card?"

"And always wear cute underwear."

"Speaking of which, I really was in the middle of something," Rory looked at Tristan, who hadn't moved from his perch over her and was more than amused by her end of the conversation she was having. He raised an eyebrow at her last comment.

"You'd rather kiss a pretty boy than talk to your mother?"

"Um, yeah."

"I thought I raised you better than that. Just for that, I won't tell you why I called."

"Now, how is that nice?"

"You want to suck his face off, you don't care that I have news."

"It isn't something icky like you found Kirk naked again, is it?"

"That has happened more than it should, hasn't it?"

"Yes. No one should ever see Kirk naked. Ever."

"Well, it has nothing to do with Kirk's frightening physique."

"I'm waiting."

"Luke bought a second toothbrush. It's next to mine in the toothbrush holder that has always had the one empty slot. I always thought it was sad, how the second slot was empty. I meant to get a little flower and stick it in there, just to make it seem less pathetic, but now it's filled. Our toothbrushes aren't lonely anymore."

"You have strange thoughts."

"I can almost hear them talking. I don't think they like the soap dish. They're planning a coup."

"Just don't let the bathmat get into the skirmish. Now, I need to go study."

"Let me guess, anatomy?"

"Bye."

She heard her mother sigh as she hung up the phone and tossed it onto the nightstand. She put her arms around his neck and looked at him intently.

"So, where were we?"

"I should go. Now. While I still can."

"Yeah. I have some more research to do."

"I have an early class."

She nodded, not breaking their gaze. "So, you were going?"

"Yeah, I was going," he agreed, not being able to help himself from a goodbye kiss. She shifted underneath him, and he brought her bottom lip into his mouth, tugging on it suggestively. She grabbed hold of his shirt, balling it up into her fists, and pulled him down closer to her. His weight rested on his elbows and he smiled into her.

"You're dangerous."

"You ain't seen nothing yet," she smiled back.

"All bets are off this weekend," he shot back.

"Can't wait."

She was going to be the end of him, he had always had the feeling that she had such powers, but now just having a taste of what it as like to be with her—he knew it to be true. He eased up off of her, and she leaned up on her elbows.

"I'm going back to my room. You're staying here."

"If you insist."

"I'm picking you up at six on Friday. Pack an overnight bag."

"And he's presumptuous."

"We'll be too far away to make it back Friday night," he clarified. "If I were presumptuous, I'd tell you not to bother with pajamas."

She smiled. "I'll leave it as a surprise, then."

"Goodnight," he leaned over and kissed her cheek before walking out of her room. She leaned back against her pillows and turned off the DVD player. She couldn't wait until Friday.


	9. Chapter 9

AN: Ah, so, the latter part of this chappy gets sort of steamy—not blatant or vulgar—just steamy. Ahem. 'Nuff said. Enjoy!

They'd been driving in the English countryside for nearly an hour, and she was honestly just enjoying the view. It was like she was at last witnessing scenes out of great literature that she'd loved so much and seen only in her imagination for years on end. Now it was just out her window. The car pulled off the main road, and she realized they were winding up a narrow path that led to what looked like a residence. Once the car stopped outside of a large house, he helped her out of the car and she stood, looking around the grounds.

"Where are we?"

"This is my family's summer cottage," he said simply.

"Tristan, this isn't a cottage—this is an estate."

"It's smaller than the digs in Hartford, so that's what the old man calls it."

"Well, he needs to be corrected. A cottage is a small shack-like structure that may or may not have access to running water, on the edge of a lake or something. This, I'm assuming has indoor plumbing?"

"At least since the 19th century," he smiled at her rant.

"This is amazing. And it's just for your family to summer in?"

"It is. Though they don't just come here all summer. They have several summer homes, all over the world. The 'rents are actually in Italy right now," he assured her.

"So, you just wanted a secluded spot to bring me to?"

"I thought you'd like to see the other side of England. I mean, you've seen the busy city life. This is much more serene and relaxing."

"That it is. What on earth did you ever do here to entertain yourself?"

"Hitched rides to London," he laughed.

"I should have known."

"I did spend a lot of time here, though. See that there," he pointed to a high wall out the side of the property.

"Yeah," she nodded.

"It's a garden, I used to hide out there for hours."

"A walled-off garden—like the book!"

He nodded. "But that's not all I wanted to show you," he promised, and took her hand to lead her into the house.

"So, there's no one here?"

"That's right."

"So, are you going to cook for me? 'Cause I tend to get sort of cranky if not fed," she warned.

"I paid one of the staff to come in and fix that before we got here. And then to leave," he added.

"Really?" she turned in to face him.

"Really," he looked down into her eyes. She smiled knowingly, and he cleared his throat. "So, you ready to eat?"

"Yeah, I'm starved. I didn't get lunch, they don't give us interns much of a lunch break."

"How's that going?" he asked as they sat down at the pre-laid out dinner spread. He lit a couple of candles to provide light, as the sun had begun to set outside.

"It's grueling. There's six of us, running around the offices delivering copy and making coffee and checking facts. Oh, and you'll never guess what I got to do today," she said proudly.

"What's that?" he smiled at her glee.

"I got to hold cue-cards."

"Very impressive," he mocked.

"It is—only the best interns get a shot. It's a very important job," she insisted.

"You're so funny," he commented.

"I know it probably sounds stupid to you," she backed off of her elated high.

"No, it's not like that. I just mean that most girls wouldn't get so excited about holding a piece of poster board. You really enjoy the whole process. Most people would be complaining about having to make coffee and not being able to eat—but not you."

"I'm paying my dues—and that's going to get me where I want to be. How could I complain about that?"

"And soon you'll be the one reading the cue-cards."

She nodded, her elation seeping back into her features. "And I'm tipping the cue-card person when I do. Those don't look heavy, but try holding your arms up like this," she demonstrated for him, "for an hour!"

"Aw, you need a massage?" he laughed.

"Well, it would be nice," she looked down at her plate before looking back up at him. "It would score you some major points."

He settled back into his chair, and put his utensils down. "Ah, now we get down to it. The Rory Gilmore points list. Let me have it."

"What?" she giggled.

"The list of what to do to get into your good graces. All girls have some screwed up list of demands," he informed her.

"I don't have demands."

"Perhaps I used the wrong words. A list of that they're looking for in a guy," he tried again.

"I don't have a list," she assured him, to which he raised an eyebrow. He clearly didn't believe her.

"I just want someone who treats me well, who respects my goals and aspirations, and makes me laugh," she appeased him.

"And you've had difficulty with this in the past?" he asked in wonder. Who couldn't grant her such simple things?

"Like you wouldn't believe," she said, continuing to eat her food.

"So, you're telling me that whisking you off to estates in the English countryside or shopping in Paris doesn't set me apart from the crowd?" he joked.

Her face got somber, and she put her own fork down. "Spending money on me isn't necessarily treating me well or respecting what I want."

"Hey," he reached out and put his hand over hers. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you."

"It's fine."

"No, it's not. What is it?"

She sighed. She didn't want to get into this here, now, or with him. He'd done nothing wrong, and she wanted to enjoy this evening. "Let's just say the last guy I dated, he did the whisk me off my feet with his influence and money thing—but when it came down to it, what I wanted didn't matter."

Tristan nodded. "I wouldn't do that."

"I know. I don't really want to talk about that anymore," she shook her head. "I want to enjoy being here with you."

"Good," he smiled, showing her that the subject was dropped.

"Though there is one very important matter I need to discuss with you," she said, her tone growing serious.

"What's that?"

"Well, before we left, I was talking with Dan, and I learned something very disturbing."

"Well, it is Dan," he interjected.

"Elisa was hanging out in his room, and your date from a few nights ago is quite miffed that you haven't called her. She was planning on staking out your room this evening, and ambushing you, while wearing very little," Rory informed him.

"You're kidding," the color drained from his face. This girl wasn't right. How much of a clear signal could he give than not calling the girl?

"Nope," she giggled. "I begged them to let me be the one to tell you. Sounds like you have a stalker."

"Wouldn't be the first time," he muttered.

"Shut up!" she howled in delight and disbelief.

"I'm serious. Some of the girls I've, uh, 'dated,' they don't get what a one-night stand is."

"You have a lot of those?" she asked, only half concerned.

"I've had enough," he said, though she wasn't quite sure what he meant by the comment. "You've never had one, I expect?"

"I've tried," she admitted.

"Tried? What, you had stalkers, too?" he teased.

"No, it's just that it always seems to turn into more."

"Well, I can see why. A guy sleeps with you, he's been entranced. He's stuck in your web."

She blushed, and smiled at him. "Oh, really, and just how would you know this?"

"You've done so much to me, and without the pleasure of your naked body pressed against mine."

"What did it take you get you so entranced?" she asked feeling the heat rush through her at his imagery, and he stood up, moving towards her. She watched as he came to rest next to her, and offered his hand. She put hers in his, and he pulled her up to stand in front of him.

"I believe you walked into my classroom," he looked into her eyes, and she felt her heart swell against her breastbone. She trailed one hand down his cheek, and he pulled her closer against him.

"Of all the gin joints," she murmured.

He nodded, and she raised up to grant him access to her lips. He'd warned her that he wouldn't hold back as of tonight onward, and he wasn't kidding. He took possession of her mouth, and he felt her give way instead of trying to hold onto some semblance of order. He felt the sweet pressure of her hands digging into his shoulders, holding on for dear life. All of this and they'd not yet made it away from the dinner table.

"Come with me," he said, moving to take her hand in his and leading her through the mostly darkened house. It was almost eerie, being in such an old house at twilight. She expected to see ghosts of times past, but all she saw were shadows in darkened corners of the house. She followed him up a grand staircase, and then down the runner of the hallway. She expected him to lead her into a bedroom—his perhaps, or which ever had the biggest bed. Instead, he opened the door to a room filled with built in bookcases, the entire thing maxed to capacity with leather bound volumes. It smelled of old books and worn leather, and her mouth dropped open.

"This is what I thought you'd like about the house," he said softly.

"Oh, my," she whispered, moving away from him. "This is amazing."

"My grandfather's something of a bibliophile," he mused. "It's the thing about you that intrigued me most when I met you."

She turned to look at him. "Really?" She'd known he'd obviously taken notice of her as soon as she set foot in the school—but she'd figured he'd just wanted to lay the new girl.

"You brought three extra pleasure books with you to school, on top of the mountain of catch-up work you had to do. You would be sitting in the cafeteria, lost in the pages before you, and looking like you were having the time of your life."

"And here I thought you were just staring at my legs," she teased.

"Don't think I didn't notice those, too," he smiled, stepping back closer to her, putting a hand on either side of her body, resting his hands on the shelves. "Or those eyes."

"You like my eyes?" she unconsciously flashed them at him, as he stood just close enough to stare directly into them.

"You can see your curiosity and your knowledge all at the same time—it's mesmerizing."

"Tristan," she felt the longing come up through her and out with her single utterance. She didn't want to hide it from him, and she intended on holding him to his promise this evening. She moved against him again, encased in the prison of his arms, and he eagerly responded to her actions. He moved his hands from the bookcases to her back, pulling her up and forward, meshing into his body. He backed up, her following him seamlessly, not breaking contact, continuously keeping the heat of his body in reach. He found the door that led into the next bedroom on the side wall, and maneuvered them through it. She barely noticed the change of venue, too focused on his lips now against her neck. By the time he sucked the skin over her collarbone, they were crashing into the bed.

He didn't need further permission to do whatever he willed to her—it would have been redundant as she was currently making short work of the zipper on his pants. He felt her seeking hands sink lower on his body, and he allowed her a few moments' discovery before pulling her hands up over her head, intertwining her fingers in his.

She smiled, knowing they'd passed the point of no return long ago. There was no going back to being oblivious friends. No more would they argue themselves into a corner without the sweet release of his body shifting her from frustrated to the depths of oblivion.

He kept his eyes on hers, wanting her to see how much he wanted this, how much he wanted her. The only time they strayed from her line of sight was when his head dipped down to sweetly sample and worship her body with every imaginable facet of his body. She ached as he took his time, tuning her up until she could feel her whole body humming. She tossed her head restlessly from side to side on the pillow, her eyes closing with pleasure. He made his way up, to regain her focus on him.

She watched as he shuddered, his eyes half closing as he let her engulf him. His head pressed down into her chest, searching for control. She loved to see him like this—at her utter mercy, vulnerable in the most basic of ways. Their whole world was an eight by eight foot square, not even a postage stamp of space in the grand scheme of things, but it felt bigger than the entire universe. Her amazement at everything—the factors that occurred to bring them together in the moment in time—faded as they came together to find what could happen as they fell off the face of the earth clinging to one another.

She couldn't have imagined such feelings opening up for her at this time in her life. She'd come here to find her future, and as she fell back into her body at his searing kisses that began round two of the burning need in her core, she wondered how much of her future she'd just found.

XXXX

It had to be the middle of the night, though there was nothing resembling a time piece in the whole of the room. Moonlight streamed through the bedroom window, its pale light only allowing her to make out forms and shapes in the foreign space. His nose was burrowed into her shoulder, his head bent down as far as it would reach. His breath was even and warming against her bare arm. She reached around with the colder limb, and stroked his hair silently, feeling the short, thick hair between her fingers. She wondered if he were dreaming of her right this moment, or if he were too exhausted to allow his mind to generate thought.

"Rory?" he murmured, as she felt his voice vibrate against her skin more than she heard the vocalization.

"Shh, I didn't mean to wake you," she promised, as his eyelids lifted heavily.

"You need something?"

"Nope, I'm perfect. Go back to sleep," she coaxed, settling back down with him.

He gave a half nod, falling back into the sleep that still had a grasp on his body. His arms tightened around her and she kissed his face as she closed her eyes in efforts to let herself believe that this feeling would never go away.

AN2: Sorry for the extra rambling. I was just thinking that I didn't get Lorelai in this chapter, which I've been tending to do. I wanted to focus on the set up and sealing of the Trory relationship. They'll get back to the 'real' world soon enough, with all other characters intervening. Thanks for reading, and if you enjoyed, please leave me a note …


	10. Chapter 10

AN: Wow. You reviewers rock—you're feeding the frenzy of writing, believe it or not. I like to think it's a rather symbiotic relationship, and I thank you for such wonderful feedback.

He awoke to the gentle tickle of her hair against his cheek. There was a chestnut mass of fallen curls in his direct view, and it was a stray lock from that mass that had swept back against him. She moved gently against him as her chest expanded and emptied with air, effortlessly as she continued to sleep unaware of his study. He vaguely recollected waking up to her in the middle of the night, and her kissing his brow as he fell back to sleep. He wondered if it'd been a dream, but he didn't really care—if it was, it was one of the sweetest, simplest dreams he'd ever had. One he would find himself eager to go to sleep in order to recreate on a nightly basis.

He supposed that she would love a show of breakfast in bed, or coffee in the very least, but that would involve him leaving this warm cocoon they'd forged under the covers, by their sheer proximity, and chancing her waking up all alone in the large house. It was far more preferable to watch her sleep, with the possibility of being coaxed back to sleep by the gentle sounds and rhythms of her breath.

He did just that, wrapping an arm tighter around her as he closed his eyes, leaving the offending lock of hair just where it was. He'd almost quieted his mind enough to allow his mind to shut down when she bolted straight up in bed, gasping.

"Rory?" he asked, sitting up to match her.

She looked to him, surprised almost to find him next to her, then a split second later relieved, as she buried herself in his arms. She'd forgotten how nice it was to have someone there next to her after a bad dream. He soothed her, one hand smoothing her hair back, taming the strays and further loosening her curls, the other an unmoving constant on her back. She clung to his chest, working on focusing all her attention on settling her breathing.

"Bad dream?"

"Yeah."

"It's okay," he continued to assure her.

"Sorry," she realized how frightening it could be to wake up to someone having a panic attack.

"It's okay. You want to talk about it?"

"No, it was stupid. I was being chased."

"I've had those dreams," he nodded, still not letting her out of his arms.

"I have them a lot. That, or where I'm falling."

"Who was chasing you?"

"I don't know, some guy. I couldn't see his face," she said, shuddering as she could still feel the person in pursuit of her. She woke up when she felt the hand on her shoulder, pulling her back.

"You sure you're okay?"

"I'm good now," she assured him, pulling away from his chest to give him a soft kiss. "It's nice that you're here," she smiled gratefully.

"I have a confession," he smirked.

"You programmed my dream so I'd wake up clinging to you?" she teased.

"I woke up just now, and I was going to get up, to make you coffee, but you were just too warm to leave," he admitted.

"Thank God. I thought you were going to say there was none in the house, that we'd have to wait 'til we got back to London."

"I may be selfish, but I'm not suicidal," he shook his head. "Speaking of London, when do you need to get back?"

"Well, I should probably get back tonight at least. I have a lot of work to do, and I promised Mom I'd call her sometime this weekend. I left my phone at school."

"You wouldn't have gotten good reception out here, anyway."

She shrugged, settling back against the pillows. She hated to leave the bed; she wasn't quite ready to put the memories she was collecting in this room to rest.

"So, we can take our time getting back?" he asked.

"Sure, why?"

It was his turn to shrug. "Just not in a hurry to get back. I like being out here in the middle of nowhere with you."

"It is nice," she concurred.

"Besides, if what you said last night was true, I might have an angry female waiting on my doorstep," he cringed, causing her to laugh at his predicament.

"You shouldn't have been so sexy and irresistible," she chided him.

"Can't turn it off, babe," he leaned in to nuzzle her neck, much to her glee. "Hey, you wanna do me a favor?"

"Is that what the kids are calling it these days?" her eyes sparkled with fervor.

"I'm serious. How do you feel about answering my dorm door wearing just one of my shirts?"

She looked at him, surprise filling her eyes. "What?"

"You know, if we get another heads up about psycho-chick coming for a visit. You answering my door wearing just one of my shirts should give her a clue," he rationalized.

"OR, and call me crazy, but it just might work: you could call her and tell her you aren't interested."

"Rory," he complained.

"What are you, a man or a mouse? Tell her the truth—she's a very nice, but callow girl, and the one time you went out was fine, but now you've met your match—a girl that doesn't like to share your affections."

"She won't understand 'callow'," he interjected, amused by her explanation.

"Exactly. It's nicer than saying ignorant," she smiled.

"Is that how you let guys down? Use big words that sound all flowery and eloquent that mean, 'Hit the road, Jack'?"

"First of all, the men I date all understand big words," she pointed out.

"Dean," he shot back.

"Okay, so he didn't catch all the big words," she bit her lip to keep from grinning too much.

"Go on," he nodded.

"And second of all, I've only ever done the breaking up once."

"And I suppose you were the picture of dignity and grace?" he prodded without giving much thought to how recent he knew this particular occurrence had been.

She remained quiet, biting her lip in thought. "No."

He watched her, wondering if she was going to elaborate. If they were going to be in a serious relationship, she should be able to tell him what was bothering her, but in all honesty, he didn't want to hear much about her and any other guy. It was bad enough having witnessed it first hand back in high school.

"But this is different, you went out for a couple of hours on one date. Logan and I dated for six months," she looked up in his eyes.

He held in a wince at the use of this afore 'mystery' man's name and the emotion that her voice allowed to show in saying the one word.

"What happened?"

She looked up at him, unsure if he really wanted to know. "It's not important."

"Did he cheat on you?"

"No, he didn't. We just, we wanted different things."

"Such as?" he led.

"Such as he wanted to continue the relationship and I didn't."

"Be vaguer."

"He needed a trophy wife, not one that wanted to see the world while on assignment. He needed one skilled in hosting cocktail parties, and I've yet to find an appealing appetizer or the necessary skill to smile for hours on end for people that I've never met or don't like."

"Wow. He's from money, huh?"

"You could say that."

"And you still hate the society life, I take it?"

"It's not that, I just don't want it to get in the way of the life I want."

"I can understand that."

She looked to him, and he saw the hope in her eyes. "So, what kind of life do you want?"

He ran a hand through his hair, and considered his words carefully. He remembered all too vividly her disdain for all things haughty. She loved the close-knit, albeit meager, world that she'd been brought up in. She was willing to stretch herself into that world for her betterment, but she would carry a part of small town life with her wherever she went. It was in her genuine smile as she talked to perfect strangers, the way she would stop whatever she was doing to help someone with a task, and her intolerance of class distinction.

"I can't say that I would like to remove myself from all of this, but I certainly don't want to live in the constraints of Hartford society by any means. I plan on having money, but I don't plan on letting the money rule my affairs."

She nodded, her face awash in relief. "I just couldn't imagine shipping kids off to boarding schools or let them be raised by a nanny, especially if I'm not expected to work. It seems so antiquated and trite. What's the point in living if you aren't having real experiences?"

He loved the passion that she held inside of her. He knew she had always possessed it, but she was truly beginning to come into her own, and discovering all of her own strength.

"So, how is this experience ranking? Real enough for you?" he asked, in all seriousness.

"Yeah," she nodded, moving closer to him. "It feels real to me."

He could feel her heart beat against his as she let the sheet she'd pulled up modestly over her chest fall away. He wanted to tell her how beautiful she was, but at this range words were failing him. She closed her eyes, her long lashes brushing against his angled cheek. He'd just have to settle for showing her instead.

XXXX

The drive back went by quicker, with now more familiar landmarks to tick off segments of the drive. It was true wherever you went, she supposed. She had hoped a foreign land would bring about some magical power of making time pull, keeping their trip suspended in time. As much as she was enjoying the classes so far and her internship, being with Tristan in the country house had been one of the most amazing days of her life. Before they left, they'd wandered the grounds, ending up in a game of tag in the garden—weaving in through the plants and flowers, him chasing her, him catching her. It hadn't been a long game of tag, as she was most willing to be caught and kept. The smell of flowers had mingled in with his aftershave, making her dizzy. She could still sense it if she closed her eyes now in the car.

Standing now, rather regretfully, at her door, she opened it and looked up at him.

"I suppose you don't want me to come in," he said more than asked.

"It wouldn't be very conducive to my getting actual work done, no," she shook her head sadly, not managing to hide her smile despite her best efforts.

"Can I ask you one last thing? I promise I'll let you study then," he smirked.

"Sure."

"Can I tell people we've dated, now?" he teased.

"Won't that crimp your style?"

"I hope so," he raised his eyebrows, leaning in to give her a goodbye kiss. She giggled and nodded.

"Well, then go ahead, shout it from the rooftops," she nodded firmly.

"You think I wouldn't?" he challenged.

"Go, study," she said sternly.

"Gilmore, sorry to break up the game of kissy-face, but I need to see you in my quarters," Dan opened his door and broke up the pair.

"No way, man, she's mine," Tristan put an arm around her shoulders, which she shirked off as she moved toward Dan.

"What's wrong?" she asked, now concerned at Dan's tone of voice. She moved into his room, and he sat down on the edge of his desk.

"Did you leave your phone here?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Your mother called, trying to track you down. I didn't know how to reach you, but she'd called the main dorm number trying to find you—you need to call home immediately. She sounded very urgent."

"Thanks, Dan," she ran back out of his room, past Tristan, who watched in confusion as she hurried into her room and began dialing before she shut the door. Tristan walked over to Dan's room and stuck his head in.

"Is everything okay?"

"Emergency at home," Dan said. "I don't know details."

"Is it Lorelai? Is she okay?"

"Her mom called with the message to contact her as soon as humanly possible. You now know all I know."

"Shit," he moved back out and tried Rory's door, which opened easily. He moved to sit next to her as she waited on the other end to be answered, tapping her foot anxiously.

"Hello?"

"Mom? What is it? What's wrong?"

"Rory, thank God! Where have you been?"

"We went out to the country, I told you I was going out with Tristan," she reminded.

"I didn't think you'd go away for a weekend, leaving no way to get a hold of you!"

"Mom, what happened? Is it Grandma, or Grandpa?" her tone rushed and full of concern.

"No, everyone's fine, I just found something."

"I should hang up right now. You can't do that to a person! I was scared to death!"

"No, Rory, listen to me: there is an engagement ring in this house," she said slowly.

"What?"

"You heard me!"

"Luke bought an engagement ring? Are you sure?"

"Well, I didn't find the receipt, I can assume he didn't steal it or go grave robbing," she rolled her eyes.

"Where was it?"

"In his sock drawer!"

"What were you doing going through his sock drawer?"

"Putting away his socks?"

"Aw, you're all homemaker-y," she cooed.

"Rory, focus. Luke. Bought. An. Engagement. Ring."

"Maybe it's not for you," she joked.

"Not funny."

"Would it be the worst thing in the world if he proposed? You love him."

"Yes, but this is the man that it took eight years to ask me out. We've been dating like a second, and he wants to get married?"

"Mom, you've been dating for over a year. Stranger things have happened."

Lorelai let out a long breath. "I guess you're right. I just don't want to screw this up."

"You won't. I have complete faith and confidence in you."

"Can I borrow it?"

"Sure."

"When are you coming home, again?"

"December."

"Damn."

"Sorry."

"You are not. So, details of the dream date to take my mind off of things on the home front?"

"Uh, can't."

"Is he sitting right here, waiting to smooch when you get off the phone?"

"Affirmative."

"I see. Well, when you detach him from your side, call me back. Day or night."

"You say that just like you mean it," Rory mused.

"Ah, you know me too well. Bye."

"Bye," she said, turning to Tristan. "Uh, so knocking's a thing of the past?" she inquired.

"I thought you might want some moral support for your dire emergency," he said sheepishly.

"Well, it wasn't so dire. Mom will recover from this bout of insanity, I assure you."

"Good to hear. I'll just go," he nodded.

She smiled moved to kiss his cheek. "You can play my knight in shining armor later. I promise."

He just shook his head at her making light of the instinctive feeling he'd received to be at her side. He wasn't prepared to react so quickly or feel so feral, but when he heard emergency and saw her move so quickly, it just hit him. Having been so close to her all weekend, he wasn't able to separate himself out from her all the way. He didn't want to go into a spiel about it, explaining this feeling he was having—it wasn't his style and he'd like to think she felt it too, even if just in a small way. He consented to leave her to study, going back down the hall to settle in for the coming week himself. He was content in just knowing this groundwork had been laid.


	11. Chapter 11

AN: Just a warning—this might be the last chapter for about a week or so. I have to take my laptop in on Thursday for its keyboard issues, and then I'll be out of town all weekend for a friend's wedding. So, enjoy, and I'll update as soon as I get back!

The sensation of free-falling through the open sky has been described as euphoric, self-actualizing, and even exhilarating. These people were obviously mentally hindered, or in the very least, strapped to a very reliable looking parachute, she decided. Slicing though the air at the gravitational constant did nothing for her, save for solidifying the certainty of near and (she hoped) sudden death. She could feel her heart pound in every cell of her body as the ground sped towards her. She got a strange sensation, akin to déjà vu, that she needed to wake up now. She'd had dreams of falling many times in her life, and they had all involved her waking up just before she hit. This wasn't right, she couldn't stop the evitable end. She impacted the ground on her back and was very aware of a sudden stillness. It was as if the world stopped rotating as she collided with the surface.

Her eyes opened, and she hesitantly attempted to lean up into a seated position. She looked up at the cliff above her from which she'd fallen, now unable to see the top where her free fall had begun. She shuddered as she felt blood coursing through her veins, as if her circulation system had reset itself. Exhilaration: she was still alive.

'Now what?' she asked aloud.

Rory bolted straight up in bed for the second night in a row. This time her surroundings were much more familiar, but all she had to cling to was her pillow. Her heart raced as the disturbing dream flashed through her mind once more, an instant replay. She slipped out of bed, not even noting the early morning time on her bedside table as she made the quick journey down the hallway.

He woke easily to the light rapping on his door. He'd always been a light sleeper, with the large house he'd grown up in constantly settling, moaning and creaking, that would cause his eyes to pop open at random intervals. He threw the covers off of him at the second round of knocking, this time sure he wasn't just hearing things, and pulled the top sheet off to wrap it around his midsection as he moved quickly across the cold tile to the door.

She was standing before him, her eyes wide with fear. Silently, he moved back, pulling her into his room so he could shut the world out. He pulled her close to him, holding her as she leaned into his chest. He felt her breathing slow to match his, and he moved her over to sit on the bed.

"I had another dream. I was falling, and usually I wake up before I hit the ground, but this time, I hit the ground, and just got up."

"You hit the ground and didn't wake up?" came his incredulous response.

She nodded her head against him. "I'm sorry, for waking you up, it just really unnerved me."

"You want to stay in here for a while?" he offered.

"I should get back to my own room," she said, feeling like a scared little girl for having come to him like this.

"Just stay. I'll kick you out if you take up too much of the bed," he joked.

"I just don't understand why I'm having these dreams."

"Being chased and falling are common themes in dreams. Go look them up at the library," he yawned.

"Good idea," she said, feeling better now that she had a plan to figure it out. "Cute toga, by the way."

He looked down at his sheet wrapped waist. "I could just answer the door naked, if you prefer. I wasn't sure if it would be the second floor chick or not," he smirked.

"Well, it's just me. You can remove the loin cloth," she said, moving back to lie down on the bed on her side, careful to leave an inviting space for him to join her.

"I like you waking up scared—it seems to heighten the arousal factor," he informed her, as he followed her lead. He wrapped his arms around her to make more room for them to fit in the smaller dorm bed, and she smiled.

"I said nothing about your getting lucky tonight," she informed him as she sank into the warmth of his frame.

"Too late, you're here, in my bed—you're kind of at my mercy," he shot back.

"We can't—we'll wake up the whole floor!" she exclaimed quietly.

"Guess you'll just have to work on being quieter when I do this," he said, kissing her neck as a starting place. He felt her shiver, and he was thus encouraged to move down, eventually disappearing completely under the cover of bed sheets. She bit her lip, finally opting for a pillow over her face to muffle the escaped sounds of pleasure.

XXXX

The next morning, she woke laying mostly on top of Tristan, as the bed had allowed for few sleeping positions. A single bed definitely wasn't providing proper room, but they'd been inventive enough to make what they were given work. His alarm clock sounded off at six, even before her own was timed to go off in her room down the hall, a forgotten detail as she'd bee lined for his room the night before. Her hand reached out to smack at it in her state of waking sleep, but as she wasn't in her room, she ended up just hitting bare mattress next to his head. His eyes snapped open at the perceived attack, and he easily reached the off button once he assessed the situation. Not a snooze person himself, he turned it off and ran a hand briskly up and down her back, trying to coax her awake.

"Rory," he nudged her head with his nose, enjoying the fact that she was sprawled on top of him.

"Early," she moaned.

"I have class. We need to get up," he reminded.

"Uhhhh," came her response.

"Besides, if you leave now, there's a chance no one will see you leaving my room all tousled and pleased."

She lifted her head wearily to look at him, wondering who on earth was this coherent moments after waking up at six in the morning. She had no idea what time he'd gone to bed, but she'd woken him up around three, and they'd not fallen back to sleep until after four in the morning.

"Morning."

He kissed her in response, which seemed much more effective in revving her bodily systems than soft words and gentle caresses. She slid up his body, her bare chest pressed now into his, and returned the greeting with increasingly more fervor as the sleep washed away from her.

"As tempting as this is, you'll make me late to class," he groaned, trying to pry himself out from under her.

She just smiled. "I don't have to be anywhere until eight," she hinted.

"As much as I'm loving this insatiable aspect of your sexuality, I have to get to class," he stood in search of a robe. She jumped up behind him, trying her best to remove the article of clothing he'd just put on.

He turned in towards her and grabbed her hands to keep her from any further explorations. "You're dangerous," he smirked.

"I know."

"What are you doing later?"

She shrugged noncommittally. "Not sure. I have to go to the station after class, but I should be done after eight or so."

"So, I might get to see you?"

"Count on it," she kissed him quickly, and moved in search of her own clothes. They exited the room together, her mostly relieved at the empty hallway they spilled out into. He grabbed her wrist as she moved past him, and pulled her back against him.

"I just wanted to let you know," he leaned down to her ear, in case anyone should happen to emerge from their rooms and overhear him, "When you were standing at my door last night, I thought I was still dreaming."

She swallowed, only able to focus on his lips. She knew instinctively from the tone of his voice that the look in his eyes would be too intense for her to handle.

"My dreams haven't been nightmares, they've been of you," he finished.

"Tristan," she breathed, finding the courage to look into his eyes. "I'll see you later," she promised, giving him one last kiss before moving towards her door.

XXXX

"Why hasn't he proposed?" she groaned, her frustration not unnoticed on the other side of the Atlantic, where Rory was patiently listening as she made her way back from the BBC offices that night.

"Weren't you not ready for him to propose in the first place?" she asked, trying to pump some rationality into her mother.

"That is not the point."

"What is the point?"

"The point, is that he HAS the ring. It's here, for him to use at any given point he sees fit. He went into a store thinking, 'I want to marry her,' and evidently since then has been thinking, 'Just not NOW.'"

"So, you're frustrated that he hasn't seen fit to propose to a woman who admittedly isn't ready to give him an answer?"

"I hate it when you do that."

"Well, someone has to be the voice of reason."

"But why hasn't he seen fit? Am I horrible? Do I have really bad morning breath? Am I one of those horrible people that chew with their mouths open? Or worse, am I a close talker?"

"Mom, calm down. Luke loves you. He's just waiting for the right moment."

"The ring is perfect."

"I'm sure it is. And I'm sure you'll be wearing it by the time I get back home."

"I hope so. So, what are you up to tonight?"

"I'm going to see Tristan," she smiled.

"Again? My, my. That's a lot of the pretty blonde boy, isn't it?"

"Not really. It's not like I get to spend every waking moment with him."

"But you would if you could, wouldn't you?"

"Mom, please."

"I'm just saying. You're all love-y and sigh-y and happy. It's nice to hear."

"It's nice to feel."

"So, what happens when you two get back to the States?"

"Huh?"

"He goes to Harvard, doesn't he? That's a lot of road trips between New Haven and Boston."

"Oh, I don't know. We haven't really talked about that."

"Well, it is still September."

"Yeah. And we just started dating."

"It'd just be a big adjustment, to go from living in the same hall to a couple hundred miles away."

"I hadn't thought about it," she admitted.

"Well, I'm sure you will work it out later," Lorelai assured her.

"Yeah, I'm sure. Oh, I'm back. I need to go."

"Alright. I'll call if he ever deems me ring-worthy."

"So, I might not hear from you for a while?" she joked.

"That's no way to speak to your mother, young lady," she half-joked back.

"Say hi to everyone for me."

"Everyone who?"

"Everyone, everyone. Sookie, Luke, Patty, everyone."

"Will do. Bye."

"Bye."

She got up to the third floor just as she shut her phone, finding a ton of people milling about in the hallway. Most everyone had mail in their hands, and she realized that it was probably the first round of mail from back home that had been delivered. She dumped her bag and headed back down the stairs to the post office area in the basement of the building. She found her P.O. Box and opened it, finding it stuffed with letters. She smiled to herself, she loved getting mail. And the fact that it was like little pieces of home was all the more sweet. There was something old-fashioned and romantic about real mail, the idea of someone sitting down to compose a letter to a long lost and dearly missed friend or loved one. She rifled through the return addresses, seeing letters from Lane, Sookie, her grandmother, and two from Lorelai, and one that was from the university. She opened it first, wanting to save the others for the confines of her own room. It was just a welcome to the campus letter, with yet another map and list of contact numbers.

She turned to go back up the stairs, when she heard a familiar voice, causing her to look up from her pile.

"My, my, someone misses you," he commented, grinning at her score.

She held up the envelopes. "Two are from Mom," she admitted.

"Still," he said, opening his box to find just the welcome letter from the university and a postcard. He held up the postcard.

"My grandfather. He's in Japan."

"Ah. Aren't your parents in Italy?"

"Yeah, but I don't even think they have my current address."

"That's, odd," she managed.

"Not really. The old man knows how to get a hold of me. So, are you going to be reading fan mail all evening, or am I still going to get to spend some time with you?"

She smiled. "Well, my fans won't be denied," she giggled.

He put his arm around her shoulders as they headed back up to their floor, where he proceeded to keep her too distracted to read any of the news from her hometown. She got through one from her mother, but the stack of envelopes got shoved off the bed quickly after that, as his efforts began to prove too much for her to ignore. She gave in, happy not to focus on anything but the sensations of his lips, hands, and skin.

It was so much better than a free-fall.


	12. Chapter 12

AN: Evidently my trip inspired angst. . . But it's long and that's what counts, right? Hehe. Love those reviews. . .

"Tell me you're kidding," Rory pleaded, her cheeks tear-stained from the body-shaking laughter that had gripped her during Dan's recanting of his graduation experience.

"Tell me you're not," Tristan chuckled, tipping back in his chair, causing it to gently scrape against the wall.

"Did you get suspended?" Elisa shook her head in disbelief.

Dan took a drink of his beer, wetting his mouth after telling his well-honed graduation story. He felt no embarrassment—rather a surge of pride that grew each time he told it—as his new audience becomes enraptured and their shoulders begin to quiver in attempts to withhold amusement before it deliciously escapes their mouths.

"It was too late, all the paperwork had been processed. There was nothing they could do to me, except …"

"Chase and tackle," Tristan supplied, having seen the same scenario played out in several sporting events. It seemed there was one in every crowd.

"How far did you get?" Rory asked, working on the full-on visual.

"Ten yard line," he bowed his head proudly.

"And you were completely naked?" Elisa confirmed.

"No, I had the mortarboard on my head, and my honors' tassel strategically affixed," he bit his lip.

Rory covered her face in her hands, now wishing the images in her head weren't so vivid. There were just some scenarios you didn't need to picture your friends in.

"Our assistant principal was also the track coach, he's the one that ended my sprint just shy of escape."

Elisa shook her head again and looked to Rory, who shrugged her shoulders as she wiped her tears from her eyes.

"And I thought being valedictorian was exciting."

"What possessed you to do that?" Elisa asked, not quite digesting the information her date was offering.

"Sometimes you have to make your own fun," Dan smiled.

"Damn straight," Tristan raised his glass to Dan, who clinked in agreement.

"Shouldn't you guys be grunting?" Rory scoffed.

Tristan reached an arm around her, pulling her close enough to smell the stout beer that lingered on his breath. He'd ordered her a wheat beer, which she had to admit was much better than the more bitter types that most guys ordered for her, using their own tastes as a guideline and not thinking of hers. She'd always tried to enjoy whatever Logan had put in front of her, and usually managed to choke a little back. It wasn't too difficult to pretend her tolerance was low, causing him to offer to finish her portion. Such the gentleman.

This beer was sweet, and she'd probably actually had more than her fill, feeling a warm rush from her head southward as he pulled her close. She tried to push him away, but he wouldn't have it, easily holding his grasp around her torso.

"Never streaked, Mare?" he asked, his tone as thick as his ale.

"No," she blushed harshly from the use of the old nickname and the alcohol she'd ingested. "Have you?"

"Yep, it's a tradition at the military academy. At the first snow of the season, they hold the 'Naked Olympics' in the courtyard," he nodded, taking another drink with his free hand.

"I flashed a few carloads of people on I-95," Elisa admitted, also having had more than her fair share of beer this evening.

"Really?" Dan scooted closer to her, quite happy at her confession.

"We were driving back up from Florida on spring break last year," she smiled. "It was a dare."

Rory was fairly confident in her prior bad-girl activities, but exposing herself in public to strangers, or worse not-strangers, wasn't something that she'd ever contemplate, dare or not. She'd kissed a girl and jumped from a several-story-high scaffold—but their pride of their nude exploits made her feel very much the odd woman out. She felt timid, and she hated that feeling.

"You should try it, it's freeing," Tristan informed her, kissing her cheek.

She rolled her eyes, clearly feeling no such need. Elisa noted her expression and discomfort and opted for a change of topic.

"So, Tristan, Sarah asked me to tell you she really had fun with you," she laughed. She assumed this was something of a private joke the four could share. The look on Tristan's face proved otherwise, however.

His head snapped quickly, his over-active imagination slamming gears from a partially clothed, impetuous Rory to his very own version of _Fatal Attraction_.

"Excuse me?" he managed.

"Did she know that the four of us were going out tonight?" Rory interjected.

Elisa giggled uncomfortably. "This girl is a smidge clueless," she held up her thumb and forefinger a sliver of air between them to help her point.

"You don't say," Tristan scoffed.

"Dan even mentioned that you two had gone away for a romantic weekend—but it didn't seem to faze her. That sounded incredible, by the way," she added.

Rory nodded tersely, and Tristan leaned in towards her again. "We should go back sometime," his breath tickled the fine hairs on her neck, but she tried to hold back the physical response it was evoking in her.

"Yeah."

Dan looked to his watch. "Shit. I have to get back, on duty hours start soon. You two coming?"

"Nah, go on. We'll be fine," Tristan encouraged. They exchanged goodbyes, and he leaned into Rory again.

"The night is young," he offered.

"We could have gone with them. We were on a double date."

Her tone was irritated and cool. He shrugged, trying to play off the strange mood that he'd felt her slip into like a jacket.

"If you're ready, let's get out of here."

She nodded and followed him out of the pub. He grabbed her hand and pulled her too quickly, not compensating for the fact she was wearing high heels, down the block.

"Tristan, stop! What are you doing?"

"Having fun," he informed her as he stopped and crushed her to him, kissing her hungrily under a hotel awning. She put a hand to his chest and furrowed her brow. She felt like she could burst into tears or scream at the top of her lungs at any given time. Unease was swelling up in her, threatening to overtake her.

"You're drunk," she accused.

"So're you," he leaned back in to kiss her again. "Let's get a room and make love on the balcony," he moved his lips quickly back against hers, not wanting her to have time to think. She pulled back, even more frustrated. At herself for not complying with his spontaneity. At him for not letting her gather her thoughts.

"Are you fucking that girl?"

The words came out of her mouth, leaving a bad taste like sour milk in their wake. She felt shame wave up over her, cloaking her like a veil.

"You're fucking kidding me."

His arms remained around her, but the lust in his eyes turned hard.

"Why didn't you just tell her to leave you alone, that you weren't interested?"

She couldn't stop.

"Drop it, Rory."

"No, I mean, it's easy to clear up, unless you're trying to keep your options open."

"I was trying not to upset her."

"So her feelings are more important than mine?"

"What is this about?" he demanded, not understanding and feeling his patience for her mood wearing thin.

"Nothing!" she exclaimed, stumbling backward.

"Rory," he reached out to steady her and she shirked him off.

"Just, leave me alone," she said definitively and turned to walk down the street. Away from him. Confused and pissed off, he watched her unsteady form move towards their dormitory.

XXXX

Halfway back to the building, her phone rang. Extracting the ringing device, she checked the number—Unavailable. She shut it, feeling more alone and ignoring the call. She shoved it back in her pocket. She was fairly sure the night air around her was cold, but she couldn't feel it. She was warm from the alcohol and frustration that had raced through her veins, chasing her blood. She almost wanted to cut her skin to allow this feeling an outlet, hoping it would spill out of her. First beading up before trailing out of her forever, similar to blood from the small nicks that occur when she shaves her legs.

She pulled her coat around her body more properly, trying to act rationally though she didn't feel it, and continued walking. She hoped being alone would let her sober up and disentangle Tristan from her poor mood. He'd done nothing wrong, save for be near her as her veil of self-doubt and loathing descended. If she could just take a nap, she'd go apologize profusely after this cloud left her mind.

The lobby to the dorm was relatively empty, for which she was grateful. She moved slower than she imagined she was to the door leading to the staircase, happy not to make eye contact with anyone. She reached her right hand around the angular door handle, tugging not hard enough at first, then too hard. The door flew out toward her, opening to reveal a familiar face.

A familiar, but out of place, person. She knew his face, his hands, his body. Oh yes, even this drunk, she knew every last part of this man.

"Logan?"

"Jesus, are you drunk?" he asked, having heard her slur his name.

"No," she turned to look away from him. Someone coughed behind her, and Logan gently steered her out of the way of incoming and outgoing traffic. He kept his hands on her, and she could feel his warmth even through her jacket. Suddenly aware of her chill, she shivered in his arms.

"Can you make it to your room?"

"I can do anything," she informed him. Slipping an arm around her waist, he silently led her to her door, and stopped without being told of the proper destination.

"I don't need your help."

"I came to talk."

"I don't need you to do that, either."

"You're belligerent when you're drunk."

"Am not."

"Rory," he sighed, taking her key from her after four failed attempts to insert the metal into its mate. She glared at him as he aided her. She hated the deftness he possessed. She wanted him to see she was fine without him.

"So I've had a few beers," she scoffed, following him into her room. She fell down onto her bed, and he locked the door before moving to help her off with her shoes and jacket. She was dressed up—not formal by any means, but it was clear from the thin, shiny material of her blouse and the three-inch heels she'd donned that she had been on a date.

"Big date?"

"None of your business," came her pillow-muffled retort.

"Look at me," he requested.

"I'm comfortable. And you shouldn't be here."

"I had to come see you. I know you asked for your space, but I've been doing a lot of thinking. You'd be surprised how hard it was for me not to be able to talk to you. I was so used to being able to see you, to tell you things," he paused, and she had to admit, her curiosity was peaked. He was rambling, and that was very un-Logan-like. She was the one that rambled. He was the calm and collected one. Nothing ever rattled him. She turned over to look at him, and he moved in closer to her.

"It's really good to see you."

She nodded, allowing him to put his hand on hers hesitantly. "You missed me?"

"I did. I've been thinking about everything you said. How I would want the life my parents want for me, and how you'd just fade away into the background, the face that appears only for birthdays and cocktail parties—but I've come to realize that you could never fade into the background for me. You have become this revolving point, something that I had no idea I was clinging to until you untangled yourself."

She looked down, but he angled her chin up to re-meet his eyes. "You don't believe me?"

"I," she paused, knowing he could write it off as a drunken inability to focus thought. Her thoughts were focused, however. They were centering around Tristan and the way he'd looked at her before she left him standing on the street. It occurred to her the reason she'd been so upset was because of this fear that the man sitting next to her at this very moment had put into her. Of being dragged into a world that would strip her of her personality and assign to her a foreign name, the only sign of femininity in the Mrs. that would precede her husband's name. Feeling so strongly for someone with money and influence had become something terrifying for her. Her apparent jealousy (was it jealousy or just drunken misunderstanding?) made it all too clear that she felt more for Tristan than she'd allowed herself to believe. It turns out she also reacts when frightened, not just when goaded.

"I don't know what to say to you."

He slid down onto the floor, still facing her, still holding onto her hand. He was knelt on both knees, and she wondered if he might just keep slipping. He seemed lost, yet determined. She wondered how life got so messed up. Why couldn't he have found these perfect words two months ago? Why couldn't she have realized that Tristan had more than the right words? The thought that he was the perfect man for her, her match in more ways than one, had occurred to her while at the 'cottage,' but she hadn't allowed herself to dwell on it. It was going so good, and she knew if she allowed herself to think about how right it felt, she'd inevitably think about how it might end. She couldn't bear the thought, too happy in his arms. Now not only was she not in his arms, but she'd probably ruined everything with her insecurities.

"Say you'll marry me."

That certainly pulled her out of her thoughts. Her alarmed eyes looked into his, noticing he'd pulled a ring box from his pocket. He had a ring. He had come on a trans-Atlantic flight with the intent of proposing. Now she was sure this was just another of her freaky dreams. She'd wake up any moment and hurry down the hall for Tristan to comfort her, and he'd tell her what was real.

"WHAT?" she yelled, much louder than she meant to. She needed to watch her alcohol consumption in the future. She had no gauge on proper behavior while under the influence, as it turned out.

"Rory," he said in the most soothing voice he could muster at her negative reaction. "Calm down, listen to me," he instructed, moving up to hold her to him, in hopes of calming her further.

"NO! GET AWAY," she yelled again, unable not to say the only things in her mind. Those were the wrong arms, the wrong eyes—probably the wrong ring. She couldn't even bring herself to look.

XXXX

Tristan felt like he'd been side-swiped by a Mack truck. He knew she'd had too much to drink, and maybe she didn't mean to sound so hateful and accusatory, but it didn't change the fact that he wanted to put his fist through a wall. No matter how many times he actually punctured through drywall and battered and bruised his knuckles, it never stopped the urge from coming on. How could she think that after the last few weeks he could even look at another girl? It was her that he saw when he closed his eyes, it was her he thought of at odd points of the day, it was her he couldn't wait to see after a long day. More importantly, it was her that was spending most every night in his bed.

There had to be something else going on.

He pondered what this something else could be while he walked off his violent urges. He circled the block, making larger concentric circles before winding them back down and ending up outside the dorm. He could only come up with one answer—and now the only thing he wanted to put his fist through was this Logan guy. He knew she'd broken up with him, and he was from old money. He wanted Rory to give everything up, including who she was, to be with him. Tristan would never ask that of her—who she was, that was the woman he loved.

He loved.

He allowed this truth to wash over him. It was pointless to deny it to himself of all people. It'd been impossible since he watched her ramble on about dating being good that night in his room. He hadn't doubted that she felt as he did until this point. When they were together, there was this strong, yet intangible, quality that seemed to permeate the air that was allowed between them. He'd never wanted to be in the presence of another person like this. The only thing that rattled him was the fact that he wasn't bothered in the least by the fact that he was falling for this woman.

Had she felt the same? Was she so lost in the mucky remains of her prior relationship to allow her feelings to get involved? He deemed it impossible. He'd seen her in the most intimate of moments. No one could fake that kind of emotion.

So, he loved her and she was angry. This was all he could confirm for himself. He looked to her door as he stepped onto the hall, fighting the urge to knock on her door. She had a lot to drink, she was probably passed out, oblivious to the night's events. He would go back to his room and attempt to do the same. He would go to her in the morning, with a clear head, and they could talk it out.

"GET AWAY," he heard her voice clear as a bell. "LOGAN, I SAID NO!"

There were no other words he needed to hear. There were no thoughts, there was just frantic motion. He banged on Dan's door, not caring who he woke. Dan opened his door instantly, his reaction time increased by the urgent nature of the pounding following what he thought he'd imagined a distressed woman's voice.

"You have master keys?" Tristan looked at him, his eyes flashing.

"Yeah, why?" he asked, grabbing said keys as Tristan moved out into the hall, already leaving Dan behind.

"'Cause if you don't, I'm going to break down that door. I just thought you'd like to know before I destroy university property," Tristan informed him as he first tried the door handle to her door, even before Dan could reach him.


	13. Chapter 13

AN: Reviewers ROCK! I'm guessing you missed my updates. And I'm so glad you liked the angst. As promised, here's the (hopefully speedy enough) second half to my 'cliffhanger'.

"What's going on?" Dan asked, fumbling for his keys, hurrying over to the door.

"Some guy is in there, and she's yelling," Tristan managed, not wanting to hear the words again, as he continued to try the door to no avail. It was definitely locked.

Rory looked up at her door as someone was obviously in a futile attempt to open it. Logan's arms were wrapped around her, his soothing words in her ear attempting to calm her. Her door rattled violently a couple of times before a key was heard in the lock. It was then that Logan's attention was drawn away from her.

"Rory?" Dan asked, hating to open the door completely unannounced, even if she were in trouble. He swung the door open, to see Rory with some guy wrapped around her. She was half seated on the bed, the man kneeling on the bed next to her. She looked disheveled, but not harmed in any way.

Tristan moved past him, to see the same view. Logan and Rory looked up at the intruders, and Tristan noted the look of panic fly through Rory's eyes. Logan had no such look, rather, he looked angry.

"We heard yelling, what's going on?" Dan asked, the paid peacekeeper.

"It's okay, I'm fine," Rory assured him, pulling further away from Logan, but not moving off of the bed.

"Who are you?" Dan turned his questions to the unknown of the group. He noticed the jewelry box that had been discarded next to the pair on the bed, and prayed that Tristan didn't see it. He was surely getting enough of an eyeful.

"I'm her boyfriend," Logan said without hesitation. "She had too much to drink tonight, and I'm just taking care of her."

Tristan looked to Rory, unable to ignore the ease with which Logan had spoken. "What?"

Dan now looked from Tristan to Rory, wondering if it were possible to be suffocated by discomfort and tension that was coursing through the air. Each of the four wanted a different outcome here, and right now all that was clear was the palpable confusion and anger.

"Do you always come barging into rooms?" Logan asked, still unsure as to why both men were standing in her room and what gave them the right to do so.

"She was yelling for you to get off of her, asshole," Tristan informed him, moving close to the other man, causing Logan to stand up in defense.

"Who the hell are you?"

"Me? Oh, I'm nobody," he gritted the words through his teeth, giving Rory a look of building malice. He wanted to hurt her for the words he'd just been forced to hear. To prove his point, he turned on his heel and headed off down the hallway.

"No," she managed, her voice weak. "No, Tristan, wait!" she called, moving up off the bed and heading to follow him.

Logan looked to her, piecing information together. "Is he the reason you didn't want me to come? Or is he the reason you came over here in the first place?"

"Logan, stop it," she snapped. Her head was beginning to pound, and she just wanted to get this straight with Tristan. She continued out of her room and down the hall to find Tristan.

He stopped outside his door, turning to look at her. She was a mess; mussed hair, barefoot, smudged make-up. Even so, she was beautiful. It hurt to look at her, but still he watched her.

"He's not my boyfriend."

"He doesn't seem to know that."

"I didn't know he was coming. I told him over and over not to, in fact."

"Did you tell him about me?" his voice was expectant.

"There was nothing to tell last time I talked to him. It was before we went to the cottage."

He sighed. His head hurt, his chest hurt, and now he could see the other man coming towards them. Gritting his teeth in preparation, he took at moment to really look at this guy. Rory'd been right—it was obvious he came from money. His clothes, his walk—he was someone Tristan might have been friends with under different circumstances. That was not going to be the case now, however.

Rory noticed Tristan tense up, and she turned to follow his gaze. "Logan, just go," she sounded exhausted.

"So, this is why you said no?" he spoke to her, but was clearly assessing Tristan.

"I said no because I don't want to marry you. I don't love you."

Tristan looked to her in surprise. He hadn't seen the discarded ring. She wasn't done, however.

"You don't even want to marry me! If you did, you wouldn't have done it like this! This isn't how you propose to someone, Logan."

"I know it seems rushed," he began.

"No. You're reacting to my ending things. You're trying to prove me wrong. You want me back, and it's not right. It's not what I want. You should go. Go home."

He looked at her, clearly taking in her words. He looked back at Tristan, who hadn't moved for the duration of their exchange. He was just standing there by her side, not interrupting.

"You heard her," he added, moving to put an arm around her shoulders now. She moved in closer to the warmth of his chest. Seeing this, an unconscious act of trust and safety, Logan nodded and left without another word. Dan came down the hall to check on them after seeing Logan leave. Rory had wrapped herself around Tristan's torso.

"So, all clear on the western front?" Dan ventured.

Tristan nodded and steered Rory into his room. Once alone for the first time this ill-fated evening, he heard her crying into his chest. He ran a hand over her back, hating the sound.

"I'm sorry."

"What happened tonight?" he wished she'd stop crying. He wasn't good with crying, but he couldn't really blame her. Her emotions were bound to need an outlet after she'd been slammed with every one in the book tonight.

She gulped in air before trying to explain. "I don't know, I think I got scared."

"Scared of what?"

"I'm not like you. It's hard for me to be impulsive, and I hate that. It's something that I admire about you."

He hadn't expected a compliment from her at this point in time, but then again she did have a tendency to surprise him at every turn.

"So, you make me want to open myself up because of how you are. And that's good, but it's still hard for me," she paused, "You're the only other person that has ever made me feel reckless."

He nodded in understanding. "Logan being the other."

She nodded. "In many ways, you two are very similar. And that scares me. It was hard for me to leave him, but I knew he just wasn't what I needed. But I think that maybe you are. The whole time he helped me to my room, and when he was proposing, I just kept thinking about you, wishing I'd gone up to that hotel room with you."

Tristan listened, in sheer relief, as she explained her surge of thoughts and realizations from this evening. He decided now would not be the best time to inform her of his own realization—she'd been through enough for tonight.

"It wasn't anything you did that upset me. I just got scared," she reiterated.

"I wasn't so calm when I heard you yelling."

She smiled. "I'm surprised you didn't break my door down."

"Dan wouldn't let me," he smiled back.

"So, you forgive me?"

"Yeah. Come here," he pulled her back to him, kissing her softly at first, reassuring. He ran a hand through her hair, feeling her melt into him. He leaned her back over his bed, moving slowly over her. It was she that broke the gentle waves and brought on a full-forced storm. Her touch became insistent and no one was complaining as she took this opportunity to both loosen her inhibitions and make an attempt to show him just how sorry she was and how much she wanted him. It was he that had to use a pillow to bite down on this evening, as to not alert the entire floor to the fact that not only had they fought—but they were equally passionate in making nice.

XXXX

"Can I ask you something?" he asked, stroking the hair that was splayed out over his chest. She was close to sleep, having no intention of moving from her spot on his chest. This room was host to the only scene from this horrible day that she cared to remember.

"Sure," she yawned.

"Did you really think I would sleep with someone else?"

She looked up at him, the guilt evident in her face. "No."

"Then why would even say that?" his tone remained soft.

"You mean besides the fact that I was drunk and jealous that this girl thinks she has a shot with you?"

He smiled. "Yes, besides that."

She propped herself up on her elbow. "I know you aren't Logan, but my head was in a really weird place tonight. I know you wouldn't cheat on me."

"He cheated on you?"

"He was with other girls when we were first together. I tried to be okay with it, we had this deal. I don't know that he cheated after we became serious. I don't think he did. I know it was always an option for him. He wasn't used to having to restrict himself that way. I guess I assumed that you aren't really, either."

He nodded, her words ringing true. "What you're saying is true. Except there's one thing you don't seem to realize."

She looked into his eyes, waiting for him to continue. He loved the hope he saw in her eyes, as she lay vulnerably in wait on top of him. He could feel every last inch of her body along his, and he wanted to savor the feeling of searing skin that was joined together.

"I don't want to be with anyone else."

He saw a single tear begin its descent down her cheekbone, and he was taken aback by the beautiful simplicity of the gesture. He reached up to wipe it away before it fell, even though it would have just fallen onto him at any rate. He leaned up to kiss her, making promises that he hoped they were both ready for.

XXXX

"Wow, your life is like a soap opera! I keep expecting you to tell me that Sonny showed up with his cronies to off Logan!"

"Mom," she sighed.

"Then, just when you think you and Tristan are ready to ride off into the sunset, Lucky comes up to you and tells you he was never in love with Liz, and you're the girl for him."

"Why do I tell you things?"

"Okay, okay. Sorry. So, continue."

"That's it. There is no more."

Lorelai laughed. "Dan leaving you alone isn't the end of the story. You had make-up sex."

"Mom, please," she shook her head, walking down the streets of London towards her class.

"And I'm guessing not only was it make-up sex, but it was ranked as a top-five, if not a top-three of all time best beddings."

"I used to love the fact that we shared things, but now," she hedged.

"Tell me!"

"Fine. It was spectacular. He does this thing, where he takes my leg, and--,"

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry I asked!" she interrupted.

"Thank you!"

"So, do you want to hear my news?"

"Yes. Let's talk about anything other than my sex life."

"I'm late."

"For work?"

"No, for my monthly visitor."

"Maybe it's pre-menopause."

"Hey, still young and viable, here!"

"Are you seriously telling me you're late?"

"Yes."

"Have you told Luke?"

"There's nothing to tell. It's probably just the stress of him not proposing, and not only can I not tell him that I know about the ring, but then I have to deal with him going on about how women's issues are icky and how he wishes for the days when they sent menstruating women out to the edge of town," she rambled.

"Luke's very opinionated."

"Besides, then he'll propose."

"Which is what you want," Rory pointed out.

"Not because he feels obligated."

"Oh. Right. Well, how late are you?"

"Two weeks."

"Mom!"

"What?"

"Take a test or go to a doctor!"

"I have to make an arrangement and find time to go somewhere in Hartford—if I do it around here, everyone will know and run to Luke with balloons and gift baskets with baby stuff in it that say things like 'I love my Daddy.'"

"Who would give Luke balloons and gift baskets?"

"Do you remember this town at all?"

"Right. Sorry. But look, you have to know, one way or another."

"I know. I know."

"This is a toughie."

"I wish you were here."

"I could maybe fly home for the weekend, if you need me."

"No, you have school and your internship, and Tristan."

"Yeah. I do."

"I still can't believe he proposed when you were trashed."

"I wasn't trashed. But I was fairly drunk."

"Just what every mother dreams of hearing her daughter say."

"He didn't really want to marry me. He'll see that soon enough. It's better this way."

"Says the girl getting all the sex."

"Logan was never in short supply of that. He'll be fine."

"So, who would it be?"

"Huh?"

"Tristan versus Lucky?"

"Oh, look, I'm at class. Time to go."

"Hey, come on! Play with me! We can play something else—oooh, 1,2,3!"

"We're on different continents. We can't play 1,2,3. Not to mention the fact that we both have special someones."

"You're no fun."

"Go pee on a stick."

"Mean. Bye."

"Bye," she said, shutting off her phone as she hurried toward her classroom and settled into a seat near the front of the hall. She was relieved to have a breather; in class, in a routine that felt safe and natural. The entire weekend had been full of upheaval and heightened emotions—and it sounded like it was getting heavy on the home front as well. She pulled out her notebook and pen, poised to take notes and forget about the real world for an hour.


	14. Chapter 14

AN: So, life has been, uh, hectic. But this chappy is a bit longer. Enjoy.

Rory was beginning to feel like she was permanently attached to her phone. Between researching her next paper at the library and being at the BBC offices for her internship, she hadn't been back at the dorm for more than four hours to sleep in the last two days. She hadn't seen Tristan, but she had found five minutes here and there to call him to say she'd stop by to pass out as soon as she could. She'd been trying to call her mother repeatedly, to no avail. She'd left messages at the house, the inn, her cell, even at the diner. It was affecting her concentration, the not knowing about her mother's limbo situation, but she kept downing the sub par coffee that was in constant need of warming in the interns' closet of a room and kept on working.

When she finally made it back to the dorm, she was in desperate need of two things—real food and a long nap. She unlocked her door, dumped her bag on the floor and looked at her bed. It looked so inviting, so warm, so perfect. It was practically screaming her name, and she decided that evidently sleep was more important than food. She kicked off her shoes, and decided to go all out, and began the quick search for the most comfortable sweats and tank top she owned. She pulled off her professional garb, stiff and constricting, and sighed in relief at the freedom of just her undergarment-clad body. She caught glance of herself in the mirror and stopped to consider the vision that was reflected back at her. Not bad. She turned around, trying not to see the flaws that generally jumped out at her. She tried to see what these men in her life told her she was. She was a woman that had been proposed to. That had a second man there waiting to catch her when she ran away from such frightening things. She stared into her own eyes, now wishing it was Tristan's she was looking into. She pulled her robe off the hook in her closet and pulled it around her, moving her weary legs down the hall and knocking at his door, hoping he'd be in.

"You're back," came his voice from behind her. She spun around to see him also clad in a robe, his hair wet from a very recent shower.

She offered a smile. "I'm back. I was going to take a nap. You interested?"

He smiled. "I think that could be arranged. Your place or mine?"

"Here's good."

He nodded and unlocked his door, letting her in. She moved immediately to his bed, shedding her robe in favor of the warmth of his soft sheets. He laughed.

"You're in no mood for foreplay then?"

"Sleep," she murmured, burrowing her head into his pillow. He slid in next to her, his body still warm from his hot shower. She curled up into him, and he slipped his arms around her.

"I can't wait to get back to the States," he said into her hair.

"Back to the cutest girls in the world?" she teased.

"Back to my bed in my apartment, it's so much bigger than this."

"What size?" she asked without realizing the implications of their conversation.

"Queen."

"Huh."

"What?"

"Nothing, I just pictured you as a King-sized guy."

"Why, thank you, Ms. Gilmore," he smirked, looking down at her as she lazily propped her chin on his chest to look at him.

"That's not what I meant," she chastised him, but in all reality, she couldn't deny him that association either. "I just meant you're used to the best of everything, right?"

He looked into her eyes, his tone turning serious. "I am now."

She smiled. "I must be really tired. You're not this sappy."

"My room isn't big enough."

"Huh?"

"For the King-sized bed. I had to get a Queen."

"Oh. Right."

She lay her head back down on his chest, feeling the sweet relief of oncoming sleep flush over her as her eyes closed.

"Exhausted?"

"Mmmm," she agreed.

"Too exhausted for everything?"

"Sleep now. When I wake up, we can do whatever you want," she promised in her altered state.

"I'm holding you to that," he whispered in her ear, and ran his hand over her back underneath the sheets. He could feel her breath even out, but he wasn't tired. He took the opportunity to feel her in his arms. He traced her skin, coming to a roadblock of the sheer fabric of her bra halfway down her back. He fingered the clasp, not unlatching it, simply running his fingers over it, learning it for later dismantling. He felt each vertebra in succession down her back, each stacked neatly atop the next, until he came to the hollow in the small of her back. He placed an open palm there, just above where her bikini underwear began. The warmth created between them was making him sleepy, and finally her even breath and warm body lulled him to sleep as well.

XXXX

She opened her eyes never having felt more refreshed in her whole life. Her stomach rumbled, causing her to remember her other basic need upon arriving back home. She wondered what time it was, and what kind of food options were even open to her at this point. First, she'd have to extract herself from Tristan's steadfast grasp. He'd evidently fallen asleep sometime after she did, and was still slumbering beside her.

She smiled softly, as her eyes began to clearly focus on his face. She leaned up a little, tracing first his jaw line before gaining confidence in not waking him, and outlining his lips with her index finger. Running it now over his bottom lip, she watched in wonder as the skin sank under her touch only to rise up again immediately; full, pink, and kissable.

Almost unable to stop herself, so mesmerized as she was with him, she leaned up to brush her lips tentatively against his. He moved his lips instinctively against hers after a moment, not quite awake yet, but becoming that way quickly. He held her against him as she shifted upward to achieve a better angle.

"'m I dreamin'?" he asked, his voice almost incoherent with sleep.

"No," she breathed, as his kisses became more responsive, bordering on taking control. She kept her motions as soft and unobtrusive as possible, but he was fast making that impossible.

"Good," he said, opening his eyes to meet her gaze. She'd slid up his body, reminding him that he was naked. She equaled his fervor, and he laced his hands in her hair so as to slow the pace of this foreplay. He'd not seen her in the last couple of days, since the stress of the weekend. He wanted to draw this out as long as possible.

"Mmmm, hey. Hey," she said, biting her lip as she pulled up from his torso. "I'm hungry," she informed him regretfully.

"So'm I," he managed.

"No, I seriously haven't eaten in almost a day," she continued, despite his lips' attachment to the hollow above her collarbone.

"I have one thing to offer you," he said between kisses. "High in protein, very in with this low-carb craze," he smirked against her skin.

"Tristan," she whined.

"Hey, you promised if I let you sleep, we could do whatever I wanted. I want to do this," he reminded, kissing her hard, as he pressed his needful body into hers. Her mind went blank, and she was suddenly unaware of her growling stomach. The sound was overtaken by the blood that seemed to be pounding in her ears, and the feeling unmatched to that of the tension and ache that pooled in her lower abdomen.

"I guess," she breathed, "That wouldn't be," another breath, "Such a bad idea."

"That's my girl," he said, moving over her properly, making her forget all other basic needs she could ever have. After all, who needed food, shelter, or water when they could experience this?

XXXX

"Did we talk about the size of your bed?"

He looked up from his burger, wiping the mayonnaise away from the corner of his mouth where it had congregated. He wasn't sure why the British seemed to insist on putting this condiment on everything, but it was something he'd gotten used to.

"When? Earlier?"

"Yeah? I seem to remember something about a King-sized bed."

"We did talk about that. I see your memory is selective, however. My bed at home is a Queen."

She nodded, not so covertly taking one of his fries. She'd demolished hers in seconds, and had started to 'sneak' his one by one as they worked on their burgers. They'd slept for over four hours, making it nearly 11pm by the time they managed to get dressed and out of the dorm. Luckily, they'd found an all-night diner, and were able to satisfy all their needs tonight. She thought to herself the only thing that would improve Luke's was if he stayed open all night. That led her to again worry about her mother, and she pulled out her phone, looking down into her lap to see that she had no missed calls, no messages.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"Expecting a call?" his tone was off, but he said nothing else.

She looked up at him, wondering if he thought she was looking to see if Logan had called her. Needless to say, she hadn't heard from him since the weekend, and she had no plans to.

"Mom, she's, well—she might be pregnant. I've been trying to get a hold of her, but no answer yet."

"Your mom might be pregnant?" he asked, completely shocked. "Is that, possible?"

She realized that most people her age didn't have mothers young enough to get pregnant. She took a drink of her soda and nodded. "Yeah. She's still in her 30s. Barely, but she says she's going to hang on to her youth as long as possible."

"And having kids will help that? My parents always said it made them feel older," he smirked.

"Maybe you drove them crazy. I was a perfect child," she sat up straighter.

"You have some soot on that halo, there," he rolled his eyes.

She stuck out her tongue. "Anyway, last I talked to her, she hadn't taken the test. And now, it's like she's joined the Witness Protection Program."

"Weird."

"Yeah."

"So, is that okay, I mean, if she is?"

Rory shrugged. "I think so. I mean, Luke, her boyfriend, he wants to marry her. I can't really see him with a small child, but I'm sure he'd be a good dad. He was always good to me, growing up."

"What about your dad?"

She looked down again, and slid her phone into her lap. "He wasn't around much. He has another kid now, she's keeping him pretty busy."

He frowned, realizing she'd never really talked about her dad. Her mother and Luke, sure. Her grandparents. Her friends. But never her dad. He figured he shouldn't press the issue, after all, she could talk about it if she wanted. He surely didn't want to talk about his folks in detail, and she respected that.

"So, I heard from my grandfather. He's stopping by on his way back to Hartford. He wants to meet you."

"He does?"

Tristan nodded. "He'll be here Friday. I thought we could meet at the cottage. The old man's grown pretty tired of London, he prefers the quiet and boring," he smirked.

"Sure. So, you told him about us?"

"Yeah. Is that a problem?"

"No, I just, after what happened last weekend, I just wondered."

"What?"

"I just want you to know, I didn't want him to come like he did—and what he did," she bit her lip.

"Rory, it's okay. I mean, you said you broke up with him. I guess I can't blame him for giving it another shot."

"It's just, when you said you were nobody to me, I," she felt the tears welling up, but she willed them back.

"I was upset, I didn't mean," he started softly.

"It's not true."

"I know. I didn't mean it, either."

"Good," she smiled, relieved.

"So, can I ask you something?"

"Yeah."

"Have you thought about what's going to happen, when we go home?"

"In December?"

"Yeah."

"Sort of. Not a lot, I mean, I tend to stay pretty focused on what's right in front of me, but yeah. I mean, not just the talk about beds, but you're in Boston, and I'm in New Haven, and do you even want anything to continue, and," she paused, more to take a breath than anything else. He reached out to put his hand on hers, and she caught his gaze, unable to continue her rant. She saw it wasn't necessary.

"Well, I'd say barring any more ex-boyfriends showing up and proposing—and your accepting said proposals, of course—that I would very much like this to continue upon our going back home. In fact, I might have to insist upon it."

"Really?"

"But that's just my opinion," he hinted.

"And I concur."

"Good. Now, my next question—do you have any other ex-boyfriends that like to pop into your life and cause major upheaval like the one I've encountered already?"

She wrinkled her nose, and thought of the men that have done such things. Dean and her first time. Jess and his sudden and altering epiphanies. "Sort of. All of them."

"Oh, wonderful," he shot back sardonically.

"Don't worry. I think most of them have it out of their systems."

"Now, that's comforting."

"But I'd have the same reaction to any of them as I had to Logan."

"Telling them no?"

"Wishing they were you."

He looked at her, unable to say anything in return. He could barely believe this girl would have ever said such things to him. She used to push him away, keeping him in place with unmatched verbal jabs. And while she still got a few in every now and then, she could floor him with her unmatched sweetness and sincerity.

"You ready to get back? It's time for bed again."

"Yeah, you're right. I have to go to class tomorrow, but the good news is, I don't have to be at the office until next week again."

"Good to hear. You've been going non-stop. I'll pay the check."

"I'm going to try Mom again. I'll meet you outside," she said, moving to kiss his cheek as she brushed past him. He trailed his hand down her side as she continued past, and turned to pay the check, sporting a wistful smile as he could still smell her light perfume on his clothes.

XXXX

"Hello?"

"Where have you been!"

"Oh, just around. What's up?"

"What's up? What's up! I can't even, there are no words! I could fly over there, just to kill you!"

"What is the matter?"

"If I'd called you from thousands of miles away with the news that I might be pregnant, and then you couldn't reach me for days, what would you do?"

"I just bought a test. There's nothing to tell."

"You just bought it?"

"I had to get to Hartford. And not just anywhere in Hartford, the seedy area, where none of my mother's spies could accidentally happen upon me."

"What seedy area of Hartford?"

"Every big city has a seedy area. Just beyond the railroad tracks."

"You're insane."

"I'm sitting in the bathroom, staring at a home pregnancy test box. You might be right."

"So, you're taking it now?"

"I was about to."

"Oh. Wow."

"Yeah."

"So, you were unavailable for days because?"

"I was avoiding, everything. I've been at work for two days straight."

"Me too."

"Avoiding Tristan? I thought you guys were okay after the Logan thing."

"We are. I had to be at work, I just was sort of relieved not to talk about it again. But we did, tonight, and it's definitely good. We're even starting to talk about later on."

"Later on?"

"When we get back home. And his grandfather is coming this weekend, and wants to meet me."

"Wow. Serious."

"Says the woman that might be pregnant."

"I should take it, huh?"

"Bite the bullet."

"As long as I don't kill the rabbit."

"So, you want it to be negative?"

"I just, didn't want to do the unplanned thing again. I mean, don't get me wrong. However I got you, I'm glad it happened. But trust me when I say that it leads to a lot of grey areas and uncertainty. I just thought that the next time around I could be married and know for a fact that the guy wanted to be with me because of me, not because he felt he had to."

"Luke loves you. He has a ring."

"Which he still has in his drawer."

"Details."

"Yeah, well, still. I don't think it would bad, just unplanned."

"Right."

"So, I should go, do this."

"Call me, the second you know."

"The box says 2 minutes. Call me in five if you haven't heard from me."

"Promise."

They hung up, and both sat motionless for the better part of the next two minutes, contemplating the future of their family. Rory pictured herself having to commute both to Boston and home on revolving intervals, to see her new sibling and to see Tristan enough. Lorelai pictured trying to tell Luke, how he'd react, how he'd be with an infant. Though on separate continents, they might as well have been in the same room as their thoughts. At least, they would have preferred to be. Rory checked her watch for the fifth time, and upon hitting the three minute mark, she picked up her phone again and dialed.

"It's positive," came her mother's immediate response.


	15. Chapter 15

AN: Just wanted to let those of you know that might care, I have a new story done, a Trory, and it's not really postable on this site. Hit my homepage for a link, it's called Sorry, and it's NC-17. If you go to my site, you will find the links to all my racier stuff, all done for the Seasonal Passions exchanges. Done plugging that, now on with this story. . .

Rory heard the knocking at her door, but rather than putting her book down and losing her place and concentration, she put the highlighter she had been using between her teeth and stood up, reading while she walked to her door.

"Yeah?" she asked through clenched teeth and flicked her eyes up rapidly to see her favorite floor monitor standing in her doorway. She immediately went back to the last sentence she had read.

"So, you all packed?"

"Uh-huh," she nodded, not looking up.

"Leaving soon?"

"Uh-huh," she repeated, the beginnings of realization that Dan had something he wanted to say seeping in, but not rooted enough to steal her attention away from her assigned reading.

"Rory," he said, putting his hand on her book and taking it from her, to which she opened her mouth to protest until she saw his face. "I need to talk to you."

She frowned and moved back, allowing him into her room as he handed her book back to her. She spit the highlighter out of her mouth and tossed it on her bed. Sighing, she put the book on top of the bag she'd packed for the weekend in the country she was to spend with Tristan and his grandfather. She moved to her shelves and procured a foil-covered package from its cardboard box, and pulled the package open expertly. She handed one frosting-covered pastry to Dan, who smiled and sat at her desk chair.

"You do this well."

"I was taught by the best. Lorelai Gilmore would never start a schmooze session without proper snacks," she flashed a smile. "What's up?"

"Elisa and I went out last night," he began, "and when we were at dinner, we ran into some people that she knows from class," he sighed and took a bite of his Pop tart.

"Yeah?" she encouraged, taking a sympathy bite as well.

"And she introduced me as her 'friend', Dan."

She put the back of her hand to her mouth, trying to stifle the yawn that was making its way from wherever they start out to her mouth. Dan frowned.

"I'm boring you?"

"No, I'm sorry. I've been up late the last few nights," she informed.

"Okay, now you're just flaunting your perfect relationship in my face. I came here for advice and comfort," he took a bigger bite, some strawberry filling catching at the corner of his mouth.

"I've been up late on the phone with my mother, who just found out she's pregnant," she clarified.

"Your mother is pregnant? Is that possible?"

Rory sighed. That did seem to be the most asked question of her these days. "She had me when she was sixteen."

"Ah, I see."

"So, she introduced you as her friend?" she asked, trying to lead him back on track.

"Yeah. We've been going out for the last few weeks, and I'm still in the friend range?"

Rory cringed.

"What was that?"

"Nothing," she shrugged.

"I saw your face. That face meant something; tell me what the face meant!"

"Well, sometimes, when a guy and girl hang out, and nothing is really established after a certain window of time has passed, you miss the romantic phase and get deadlocked in friendship."

Dan's face was alight with panic. "How long is this window open?"

Rory shrugged. "Not sure."

"How can you know of the window, but be unsure as to how long it's open?"

"I'm just saying. It happens."

"I need the window to stay open. Or reopen."

"That window tends to stay shut."

"What about you and Tristan? You were both insistent that you were just friends, and now, you're, well, disgustingly engrossed, if you must know."

Rory smiled. "We were never just friends."

"I'm lost," Dan shook his head in defeat, having finished his treat.

"When two people are overly adamant about the fact that they are just friends and nothing else from the very beginning, they are never just friends. There's always an underlying tension that they're trying to squelch."

"Well, duh."

Rory put a hand on her friend's shoulder. "Have you talked to her about this?"

Dan shook his head. "I didn't think we had to talk about this. We see each other a few times a week, we've been more than friendly, it's not like I punch her on the arm and say 'See ya, buddy!' when I leave her at her room."

Rory giggled at the image. "I've seen you two together. I didn't get the 'just friends' vibe. Maybe she freaked out, or she just didn't feel those people had a right to know intimate details. Are there, intimate details?"

"Just normal stuff. Making out. Nothing major, yet."

"Well, you know, you could always just ask her where she thinks this is going," Rory suggested.

"Oh, man. I don't have to do that, do I? I hate the talk. The talk never goes well for me. I always get nervous and end up saying something stupid."

"No, buddy, I guess you don't have to," she put an emphasis on the dreaded word, and he sighed. There was a knock at her door, and she patted his shoulder again on her way to answer her door.

Tristan moved next to her, and took note of Dan seated at her desk. "He doesn't look so good."

"And this is after the Pop tart," Rory shook her head.

"Girl troubles?" Tristan asked, moving to grab Rory's bag.

"I have to talk to her," he nodded, looking up at Rory.

"I think it's wise," she agreed.

"Have a good trip," Dan gave an attempt at a smile as he left the couple to finish up their business before they left for the country. As soon as he was out the door, Tristan dropped the bag and put his arms around her waist to pull her in for a proper kiss. She happily responded, kissing him for a moment before pulling back to rest her forehead against his.

"Hey," she smiled.

"Hey. How was your day?"

"Busy. You?"

"Same. I haven't seen you in forever," he complained.

"I'm sorry I've been MIA. Mom's really freaking out, and I hated to interrupt your beauty sleep just because I've had to surgically adhere the phone to my head."

"She still hasn't told him?"

"No. And until she does, the nightlong phone marathons will continue."

"Give me the phone, I'll tell the poor guy," Tristan offered. "I miss you."

"I miss you, too. But you get me, all weekend," she crossed her heart with her middle finger.

"Ah, the glory of no cell reception."

"My mother is in crisis, and you're gloating."

"I don't even know your mother."

"Well, you will, and believe me, she'll make you sorry that you ever took anything but pity in her pain."

He raised an eyebrow. "You want to take me home to meet your mother?"

"You're taking me to meet your grandfather."

"Yeah, I suppose I am. Not that I'd have a choice. If we didn't go there, he'd come here."

"You're the one that talked to him about me," she teased him. "Told him who great I was, how much you can't live without me," she continued, running a finger down his cheek repeatedly.

He rolled his eyes and kissed the top of her head. "You're delusional."

"What did you tell him about me?" she asked, highly intrigued.

"That you have legs that go on forever and the sweetest as-," he began, but she swatted his chest.

"I'm serious!"

"So'm I!" he laughed, holding her to his chest, as she tried with a decent amount of effort to wriggle out of his arms. He was just too strong, despite her best half-hearted efforts.

"I should make you go all by yourself and let you explain why you're alone!" she stuck her tongue out at him.

"That wouldn't be too hard. The old man is probably expecting me to have screwed this up by now," he said with a hint of seriousness.

"Not the best at keeping the ladies happy?" she nodded, in mock-understanding.

"What have you told your sainted mother about me?" he asked, allowing her freedom of her limbs and once again, as he moved to pick up her bag. She pulled together her sweater and purse, and the book that had fallen to the floor, unnoticed by Tristan before.

"Oh, you know. Everything."

He paled and turned. "Everything, as in, everything?"

"Uh-huh. Why?"

"Well, I can never meet her now."

"What? Why?"

"I have a strict policy, never meet mothers that know I've had sex with their daughters."

"Aw, don't worry. I talked you up. I was very generous when describing your attributes," she smiled and stepped out her door, ready to embark on their weekend.

He groaned and followed her, having not other choice.

XXXX

"I can't believe you brought homework."

"I have to get this done, besides, we'll be there all weekend. I have to have something to read."

"I plan on keeping you very occupied. In fact, I could occupy you right now," he raised an eyebrow and put his arm around her shoulder.

"We're in the car. There is someone sitting right up there," she hissed, motioning to the man that was driving them, clearly visible through the glass partition.

"I miss you. I haven't gotten to see you much for the last couple of days," he reminded her, kissing her cheek sweetly. She nodded and looked up into his blue eyes.

"I know, but," she managed before he placed another kiss on her lips softly. She kissed him back quickly, chastely, before pulling back and looking up at the driver again. He didn't seem to be paying them any attention, just continuing his drive through the countryside.

"Tell me about your grandpa," she suggested, trying to veer him away from his focused attempts to make her lose her train of thought.

"Not really what I had in mind," he said, kissing her bare shoulder.

"Tristan, come on," she said, but his mouth was once again on her lips, not letting her protest, or really even breathe. She returned the fervor and slid her hand down into his lap and pressed gently. She looked into his eyes, and noticed how they seemed to be gleaming with hope.

"Dream on. Now, tell me about your grandpa," she smirked.

"Tease," he pouted. "Fine. What do you want to know?"

"What's he do?"

"International law. He deals mainly with large corporations, and rights infractions."

"Interesting."

"Yes, it is. Or at least, I'm screwed if I don't think so," he nodded.

"You're taking over the business?"

"I'm joining the business. The old man isn't going anywhere yet."

"Do you two get along well?"

"We're pretty close, we're a lot a like."

"He's a skirt-chaser?"

"Funny."

"I thought so."

"He's stubborn and strong willed. He doesn't put up with crap from anyone."

"Ah, now I see the family resemblance."

"And he's going to love you."

She looked at him and blushed. He still had his arm around her, and her hand had fallen to rest gently on his upper thigh. They were basically sharing the same seat in the back of the car, they were so closely pressed into one another. Her shoulder was tucked under his arm, and her chest was pressed into his.

"Oh."

He wasn't sure if her speechlessness and hesitation were from surprise or shock, but he leaned down to kiss her, not wanting her to feel pressure to say anything back to him. He put a hand to the back of her head, gently holding her to him. She smiled as they pulled apart from the kiss of reassurance.

"I'm sure I'll love him, too," she said with authority and a genuine smile over took his anxious features. They sat back, her with her book in the comfort of his embrace, and him watching the scenery go by on the rest of their trip out to meet his grandfather.

XXXX

"Where are you calling from?"

"Tristan's family's cottage. I shouldn't stay on long. I just wanted to check in."

"No cell reception at all! That's lunacy!"

"Well, unless you're going to come out here and build a cell tower yourself, I don't see any way to fix this problem. Oh, wait, you could talk to me now," she suggested.

"Luke asked me to dinner tonight."

"You live together."

"I mean, to a fancy dinner."

"So, you think he might pop the question?"

"I've narrowed it down to that or an easy let down."

"Mom, stop. He doesn't want to let you down. He likes you up."

"That makes no sense."

"I'm serious. He wants to be with you. Are you going to tell him about your delicate condition?"

"You make it sound like I haven't been trying," she sounded put out.

"What have you done?"

"Well, I've been eating vegetables without argument. You know how he always tried to sneak them into my food?"

"Go on," Rory encouraged.

"And I've been having to get up out of bed early in the morning to throw up. I run the shower when I do it, though, so he can't really hear me."

"Uh-huh. Keep going."

"I was looking at your baby book the other day, and left it on the coffee table for him to find."

"Did he find it?"

"Yeah. He asked when you were coming home and said to say hi next time I talked to you."

"Mom," she sighed and tried to think of a way to say what needed to be said nicely. "Maybe you should consider actually using the words 'baby,' and 'we're having a' in the same sentence."

"We'll go to dinner tonight. We'll see what happens. And after I throw up said fancy dinner, then I'll tell him."

"I'll call you tomorrow. You have to tell him."

"I could wait until you get back, and you could tell him. He'd never cry in front of you."

"I have to go."

"Fine. I see. I give you life and raise you to be an independent woman who leaves me when I need you most."

"Tell Luke hi for me."

"Bye."

"Bye," she sighed, hanging up the phone just in time to see Tristan moving into the room. He smiled.

"His car just pulled up."

"Okay."

"Everything okay at home?"

"It will be. Let's go."

She smiled and took his arm, and they moved through the house to greet the older gentleman whose car had just pulled up in front of the house. She hoped that this evening went smoothly both for her and her mother.


	16. Chapter 16

AN: This chapter is Trory-centric, for those of you who dig that. :) And for those of you who don't, well, then you're probably looking for another 'shipped story. Enjoy, and send some love to those review buttons. . .

The three had exchanged pleasantries and the usual greetings and inquiries into the well-being of her grandparents, whom of course Janlan Dugrey was acquainted with. It seemed she would never meet anyone that didn't know of her grandparents. He led the way of the young couple into the main sitting area, where another servant (all called in anticipation of this weekend occupation) met them to take drink orders. They sat and Tristan took hold of Rory's hand innocuously.

"So, Gramps, how was Tokyo?"

"Cramped and dirty."

"Excuse me?" Tristan took a moment before bringing his drink to his lips again.

"They wanted me to sleep in a cabinet and eat raw fish off of a young woman. I took the next redeye flight after my meeting, instead of staying one more night. Thus making plenty of time to visit my grandson in beautiful, spacious England."

Rory blushed, but couldn't help smiling. Tristan held in full-force laughter at his grandfather's statements, but was trying to be polite, seeing as the older man was clearly unhappy with his foreign accommodations.

"This house is beautiful," Rory agreed.

"That it is. One of my better investments," he took a drink of his scotch. "So, how are you two liking the university program here?"

"Not bad. A nice break from the overachieving conservatives of Harvard," Tristan nodded. He felt Rory shoot him a look, but she answered as well.

"I got an opportunity to intern with the BBC," she answered proudly.

"The BBC, that is impressive. You want to be in the news business?"

"I do. An overseas correspondent, to be exact."

"That's a lofty goal. Sounds like a woman as intelligent as yourself would know better than to get involved with my grandson."

Rory laughed. "Well, he can be a rather formidable opponent at times."

"Should I leave the room? I mean, do you two really need me for this conversation?" Tristan asked, but Rory squeezed his hand.

"You can get no better compliment from a woman such as Ms. Gilmore here than what she's just given you. Be grateful, don't slink away," Janlan informed him.

Rory smiled at Tristan, and he nodded in consent. "Trust me, I know that. She's not always so agreeable."

"Should I leave the room?" she asked, jokingly.

"If you wouldn't mind," Tristan smirked, but held her hand tightly. "So, you're back to Hartford, next?"

"I have a meeting first thing Monday morning. Something your father is supposed to be at. Any word from them?"

"They were in Italy, last I heard from them. He hasn't been in contact with you?"

"He has no financial say in my life, Tristan, remember, it's the other way around. He hasn't willingly called me since you were born."

Rory was unsure exactly what it was the two men were or weren't talking about. Their actual conversation didn't seem strained, but the topic itself seemed to be, if that were at all possible. She would wait until Tristan talked about it to her to find out details, but in the mean time she wished she weren't sitting here while their family matters were discussed.

"I wish I were so lucky. So, what would you like to do while we're here?"

"Sleeping in a real bed and having a conversation with two intelligent kids that speak my language fluently will suffice, I believe. And of course, a meal with cooked food served on plates sounds good, as well."

The conversation flowed more naturally from that point on, steering clear of Tristan's parents until the maid came in to inform them that dinner was being served. They got up and headed into the dining room, the same room that Rory and Tristan had eaten in the night that they'd first consummated their relationship. Rory hoped she wasn't noticeably blushing at the memory this room held for her, as wonderful a night as it was, bringing that up now probably would make Janlan want for the accommodations he'd had in Japan.

"So, Rory, you followed in Richard's footsteps, how are you enjoying Yale?"

"It's wonderful. I'm on the paper, and my classes are incredible."

"Tristan mentioned that you'd been Harvard-bound back at Chilton."

"Well, I was, but when it came down to making the decision between Harvard, Princeton, and Yale, Yale just seemed a better fit."

"You got into all three? Impressive."

"Thank you," she blushed.

"So, Tristan, how are you planning on keeping up with this talented young lady after you get back to the East Coast?"

"Excuse me?" he looked up from his plate, having enjoyed the fact that his grandfather was enjoying getting to know Rory. He couldn't imagine any other girl that he'd 'dated' being able to sit and talk with the older man and keep his interest peaked. Hell, no other girl had kept his own interest held for more than a couple of hours, either. But now, he'd been addressed and time was passing too quickly as he didn't answer.

"I asked, how do you plan on bridging the gap between Boston and New Haven."

"Uh, we're still, working out the kinks there."

"I see. Should I have not mentioned," he began, looking between the two that were also exchanging looks.

"No, no, it's fine. We just, it's just that," she hedged, before making up her mind. "We just started dating."

"Oh. Well, I guess I got another impression from my grandson."

"Oh?" she asked, clearly intrigued.

"He didn't have his hearing aid turned up enough, that's all," Tristan interrupted, not wanting his grandfather to pontificate upon this topic to her waiting ears any more. He needed to do some serious memory clearing in the bedroom, surely that would do the trick. Because this was just getting embarrassing.

"That's enough out of you," Janlan said with parental authority. "So, perhaps you two should take a walk, and figure out what story you'd like to agree upon?"

Rory smirked at Tristan, and he hung his head for a moment. His grandfather was the one person, besides Rory, that had always been able to best him. He didn't mind it, he figured he was learning things from the old man. Maybe he'd be able to do the same for his grandchildren. He heard the giggle emit from Rory's throat, and the thought of grandchildren didn't wane.

"Yeah, fresh air doesn't sound like such a bad idea. Shall we?" he stood up and offered his hand to the lovely woman sitting previously across from him. She accepted the offer and soon the two were wandering around the darkened grounds, lit only by moonlight. There were no clouds in the sky, and she marveled at the first real sight of the stars in this area of the world. It was too bright and busy in London to get a good view. Out here it was clear and brilliant.

"It's so beautiful out here," she breathed, leaning into him as she looked up, letting him guide her path.

"That it is. And the fresh air, you can't beat the fresh air," he mocked.

"I was being serious!"

"I'm sorry," he pulled her in closer to him, halting their steps. "The fresh air is nice, and wait, do you hear that?"

She paused with him and waited. "What? Tristan, I don't hear anything," she whispered, because she felt the need to.

"Exactly. Nothing. No grandfather out to embarrass his grandson," he whispered into her ear.

She pushed his arm with her hand. "He wasn't embarrassing you."

"He was about to."

"By telling me that you like me? You might think you're suave and mysterious, but I did sort of figure that one out on my own," she teased.

"He's into forward-thinking. He sees us together now and wants to know what it means for the future."

"Yes, that generation seems to share that particular disease," she said with distaste, "But he didn't seem so oppressive about it. He was genuinely curious."

Tristan nodded in agreement, but didn't let her go. They'd stopped out in the middle of the gardens, on a winding dirt path. "He also seems to think you make me happy."

"Well, is he right?" she hedged, biting her lip.

"I suppose happy would be an adequate word to describe it. Though it doesn't quite cover it completely."

She tilted her head to the side, eager for him to continue, smiling with sweet satisfaction. "Really? What words would completely cover it?"

"Completely, hopelessly in love," he said after a moment of consideration.

"Is this what your grandfather would have told me had we stayed in there a minute longer?" she asked, as her mind began to contemplate the fact of what he'd just revealed to her.

"I figured it was better for you to hear it from me first," he nodded, looking at her lips.

"Probably."

"Rory," he whispered.

"This is so fast," she managed. "I would have never thought I'd even see you again, let alone be here like this, feeling like this," she rambled, falling further into him as she spoke. His hands were holding her close, supporting her while all her focus was fighting for eloquence.

"And now, after everything that's happened, all the reasons I've given you to run away screaming from me, you're here, holding onto me, telling me you love me, and," she knew she was losing this battle. She wanted to tell him to take her upstairs where words wouldn't matter. Suddenly being here, fully dressed in front of him, she'd never felt more exposed. "I love you."

He moved to kiss her, but her lips started moving again. "What is going to happen to us?"

He ignored her question, at least in the most conventional sense. He continued his original plan of attack, and kissed her. She had so many questions in her, things she hadn't let herself think about in view of everything else in her life that swamped her mind and kept her running 24/7. Being here with him, allowed to focus on nothing else, she got an ache in the bottom of her stomach that she couldn't shake.

"Tristan," her voice pleading with him.

"What do you want me to say? It's not for months," he reasoned.

"Tristan," she said more definitively. "I'm serious, we can't ignore this. December is just sitting there, waiting like a big black hole."

"You want me to transfer?"

She looked at him in surprise. "What?"

"To come to Yale?" he reiterated.

"Do you want to?"

"I don't know," he replied honestly.

"Don't do that, go around making offers you aren't willing to make good on," she shook her head, stepping back out of his arms. "Don't."

"Rory, calm down, we're just talking, not signing anything in blood."

"I mean, you can't go making promises to be with people, when you have no intention on following up on it," she said, sounding more harassed, and less in their actual conversation.

"What exactly did I do? I don't have my life mapped out; I didn't expect to find you here, or for you to ever really want to speak to me," he said, getting a little worked up at her accusatory nature. "I just told you I love you, which, believe it or not, was not the easiest thing I've ever had to do, and now you're getting mad at me because I've made promises to you that I can't keep?"

"I don't want to talk about this," she said, turning to face the house.

"No, we're talking about this. Right now."

"Tristan," she warned, but it didn't work. His hands were on her shoulders, turning her back around.

"What have I done?"

"Nothing! This isn't about you."

"Like hell it's not! We're talking about us. I need you to focus on that and leave whatever baggage you have out of it. Look at me," he said lastly, his tone softer.

She complied, looking up with glassy blue eyes. "I don't know how to separate out like that."

He nodded. It was a skill he'd perfected over his lifetime, compartmentalizing his pain. Unloading unprovoked issues on others had landed him in military school, and he'd since learned to keep it in check, unless drunk enough to forget such lessons.

"I want to be with you. It's not a promise, it's a statement of fact. I don't know how long distance relationships work, or if they work. I know I like having you close now," he smiled, trying to find a similar expression grace her face.

"I don't want to transfer to Harvard," she combated.

"That's fine. They have cars, trains, and planes that frequently travel the distance between the two cities."

She smiled, at his gross oversimplification of the nature of their problem. "You don't say."

"And I can see no better way to spend my money than coming to see you. Or better, yet, letting you come to me, so you can study on the way, which you seem to be rather partial to. I would hate to take away from your unbelievable unique ability to squelch motion sickness and read in fast moving vehicles."

Her smile widened. "It actually helps," she shrugged.

"And we won't be in school forever. Just three more semesters. Unless, you know, you're on the five-year plan, trying to take all the classes the university offers."

"Shut up," she tried not to smile.

"Hey, I know a guy that's been at Harvard for eight years."

"No, doing what?"

"He changes his major every couple of semesters," he shrugged. "You'd like him, he's interested in everything."

"How'd you do that?"

"Do what?" he asked as she took a step closer to him. If she took another step, he could kiss her without moving too far.

"Make it seem easy, like it'll just—happen."

"Because it's what I want. Do you not remember what I told you when we came out here?"

"I seem to remember something about you loving me," she teased, taking that next step.

"Remember that," he suggested, leaning down slightly and kissing her reassuringly. He was really good at that. She slid her arms around his shoulders, placing her cold fingers on his warm neck. He shivered at the contrast, and pulled her closer, into his embrace. When they pulled back, he slipped his hand down to lace through hers.

"We should get back inside, he'll get suspicious."

"Yeah. I have a reputation to uphold," she smiled, pulling his hand as she moved down the path.

He pulled back. "So do I. Maybe we should stay out here a while longer."

Her mouth gaped open. "I want him to like me!"

"He already does. And you just want to go sneak a call in to your mother."

"What makes you think you know me so well?"

"She's going to be fine."

"I hope so. She deserves to have it all."

"So do you."

She looked up at him and smiled. "Let's go back inside," she suggested softly. He leaned down to kiss her one more time before consenting to being pulled back up into the house to catch up with his grandfather.


	17. Chapter 17

"Answer the stupid phone!" she exclaimed before slamming the phone down into its cradle. It made an angry bell noise, as good old fashioned phones such as this one do, and she stood back in a huff.

"Did the phone do something to offend you?"

She jumped a little at the voice coming from the doorway to the library. She smiled sheepishly at Janlan, and began to explain.

"No, my mother, actually. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to," she gestured toward the battered phone.

"It's alright. I've ripped them clear out of the wall on occasion. What's wrong with your mother?"

"I was supposed to call her, to find out how she was faring in some personal matters. She isn't answering."

"Doesn't she have an answering service of some kind?" he inquired.

"I sort of can't do that. I really need to speak with her, and my cell doesn't work out here," she began to rant, but cut herself short. "I should probably just go back to bed. I didn't wake you, did I?"

"No, Rory, I'm afraid I'm quite jetlagged. My body doesn't really adjust as quickly as it once did. I used to travel the world every other week and I could sleep like a baby, waking up without the slightest drag. But now, I'm walking the floors."

"Wow. Long plane rides knock me out. Coming over here, I slept for half a day when I got off the plane. I'm surprised Dan didn't have to peel me off my bed to attend the first meeting."

"And Dan is," he inquired.

"Our floor monitor. And friend. He and his girlfriend go out with Tristan and me sometimes."

"I see. And is my grandson treating you well?"

Rory smiled. "He is."

"Good to hear. If he gives you any trouble in the future, feel free to call me. I'll straighten him out in a hurry."

"I appreciate that."

He nodded. "I have a feeling you can handle him, though. He's told me how you used to put him in his place back at Chilton."

She blushed. "He did?"

"Not many girls turned him down. He was used to a certain level of unrestrained extravagance, in all aspects of his life. A trait he got from his father no doubt. Don't get me wrong, I appreciate the comforts that money has afforded me, but I've found it's best to keep in mind that money doesn't make you a better person. You have to do that yourself," he smiled as he realized he was straying from his point, "At any rate, when you turned him down time after time, he was noticeably bothered. It wasn't until after he'd been in military school for quite some time that he began to see the world more my way than his father's."

Rory nodded. "He does seem a smidge different now. I wondered what made him drop the God complex."

Janlan laughed. "It was a number of things, I believe. But it's late, you should get back to bed. Will you be able to sleep, or are you still concerned about your mother?"

"No, I'll just try her again in the morning. And I promise to be nicer to the phone," she added with a smile.

"I'm sure you will, dear."

"Rory?"

They both turned to see a half-awake Tristan in the doorway, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes with one fist as he pulled his robe closed with the other. It was clear he'd been out for some time, and came in quest of her when he awoke to find her not next to him.

"You coming back to bed?"

"Yeah, I was just on my way back in. Good night," she turned to Janlan before moving towards Tristan.

"Good night, kids."

Janlan watched as the pair made their way out into the hall, Tristan's arm wrapped around her smaller framed body. He moved to grab a book off of the built in bookshelves and sat down in a leather armchair to wait for sleep.

XXXX

Tristan shook her gently, willing her out of her bad dream. He'd never known anyone to have so many nightmares in his life—but then again, he couldn't honestly say he'd shared a bed with anyone long enough to find out.

"Rory," he said, at a normal decibel, having exhausted softer tones.

Her eyes snapped open, a relatively disturbing thing to watch, as she was clearly completely disoriented for a moment.

"Another bad dream?"

She nodded, blinking, and rolled onto her slide to face him. He trailed a finger down her jaw line.

"You have a lot of those."

She nodded again, her eyes looking more invigorated with recognition. "Mom says I worry too much."

It was his turn to nod. "You can tell me things, you know?"

"It's stupid."

"Try me."

She sighed, and interlaced the fingers of her top arm through his. "I dreamt that Mom told Luke, and he took off. She had the baby after that, but she died in childbirth, and I had to raise it."

Tristan's eyes widened. "I see."

"I told you it was stupid," she muttered. "Luke won't leave, and Mom won't die."

"Call her. Again."

She smiled. "Do you even remember coming to get me last night?"

He yawned and pulled her closer. "Yes. And you're very predictable, hiding in the library."

"I wasn't hiding."

"Rendezvousing with Gramps?"

"I didn't want you to find out this way," she mocked sadness and regret. She giggled as her gave a low growl and rolled them over in a flash, pinning her underneath him. He silenced her with his mouth, drinking in her slowing amusement, until he felt her shift, as she parted her legs wider to allow him to be cradled between.

"Is this some sort of remedy for nightmares?" she managed as his lips migrated quickly south. He looked up, his eyes locking on hers.

"I hope so."

She lifted her hips, brushing against him with want. He continued his journey, pulling her along willingly. Once his lips were level with her ears again, her legs now wrapped tightly around his waist, he spoke in quick, ragged breaths.

"This is what I want you to dream about."

She cried out, agreeing with him, calling to greater powers in the universe, and nearly bringing him to tears with her intensity. His lips met hers in sweet relief, gratitude, and amazement. He moved to roll off of her, but she pressed her hands into his damp back, holding him to her.

"Not yet," she protested.

"Feeling better?" he asked, obliging her request.

"Much. To think Mom just used to read me a story when I had a bad dream."

"Fairytales?"

She blushed. "I liked the happy endings."

He studied her face, as if considering something. "Me too," he kissed her once more before sitting up, still straddling her hips.

"How does the theater sound?" he asked suddenly.

"For what?"

"Tonight. Gramps has an early flight tomorrow morning anyway, and he can stay in London tonight."

She smiled. "Sounds perfect."

"Good. Go, call your mom and I'll make arrangements."

XXXX

Sitting in the library, alone once again, she dialed the long series of numbers and waited. She was determined to talk to her mother, even if she had to call Kirk to scour the town. Somebody had to know something.

It was on the fourth ring that someone picked up the extension. Breathing in relief that she wasn't reaching yet another infernal recording, she began speaking. Damn modern technology.

"Mom?"

"Oh, hey, Rory. Your mom's sleeping."

"Luke. Good. Uh, is everything with you good?"

"I'm good. … You alright?"

"I, uh, I've just been trying to reach Mom all weekend."

"Oh, yeah, she said you went to the country this weekend."

"Yeah, we did."

"You want me to get her up?"

"Could you?"

"I'll try. Hang on."

She waited, utterly confused as to what Luke knew. By the time her mother's sleepy voice came on the line, she was completely worked up.

"'lo?"

"Mom!"

"What?" she sounded harassed and confused by her daughter's indignant tone.

"Details. Now."

"It's late," she whined, still not prying her head from the pillow.

"Mom!"

"Fine! God, you get more like your grandmother every--,"

"Do not finish that thought."

"We went to dinner," she relented.

"Uh-huh."

"Sniffy's."

"Right."

"Buddy and Maisy were there, of course, and I kept feeling her eyes on me. She knew something was up, I could feel it on my skin, the little hairs on my arm stood up, it was rather unnerving. They offered us drinks, and I asked for water, and she immediately threw her arms around Luke."

"Uh-oh."

"She started babbling 'Congratulations' at him, then at us, and pulled me to her, too."

"And Luke did what, exactly?"

"He asked how she knew."

"What?"

"Yeah, so she says she could tell just by looking at me, and he yells, 'But I haven't even asked her yet! How could you know?'"

"No!"

"Yes."

"So?"

"So, he pulls out the sock-drawer ring from his pocket, and gets down on one knee."

"Oh my God!"

"And he says my full name."

"Just like in the movies!" she swooned.

"And I said, 'I'm pregnant.'"

"No so movie-like."

"No."

"What did he say?"

"He passed out. Dead away. Luckily he was pretty close to the floor already."

"Poor Luke."

"He came to a minute later, asking me if I'd answered him."

"What'd you say?" Rory laughed.

"That I'd marry him if he promised not to pass out in the delivery room."

"So romantic," Rory mocked.

"Then he kissed me."

"Are you sporting the bling?"

"I am."

"Aw," she drawled.

"So, how's meeting the family? Less freaky than last time?"

"Much. Janlan's a wonderful man."

"Good."

"And … he told me he loves me."

"Presumptuous old coot, isn't he?"

"Tristan told me he loves me, mother."

"OH, that's way less creepy."

"I thought so."

"Did you say anything back?"

"Yes."

"Aw, babe, I'm so happy for you!"

"And I'm happy for you! I was so worried, Luke didn't sound weird at all."

"He's sort of, in shock. He kept watching me all the way home, and he drove slower than the usual old lady speed he normally does. He asked me if I needed anything to eat, then he insisted that I go to bed. He leapt out of the bed when the phone rang."

"Hmm. Well, he does have to protect you now. Pregnancy is a dangerous time. You're much more likely to get murdered while pregnant, statistically," Rory offered.

"What?"

"High instance of murder, most of the time by the biological father of the child."

"So, it's much more likely that Luke will murder me in the next nine months than in the entire rest of our lives?"

"Yes."

"So, I should lay off the flannel and baseball cap jokes?"

"It would be wise."

"You're a fountain of useful knowledge."

"You're welcome. I need to go. We're headed back to London to see a play on the West End."

"Ooh, fun! I wanna come!"

"I don't think you'll make the opening curtain, what with the flight and all."

"Right. Guess I'll settle for hearing about it later."

"Will do. And Mom?"

"Yeah?"

"Congratulations."

"Thanks, Hon."

Rory hung up, gently this time, and smiled to herself. She sat in the chair, letting her mother's good news wash over her. She'd known it was all in the works, of course, but it was possible to truly enjoy it now that both her mother and Luke were in the know and ready to move forward. Her mother was on the verge of starting a whole new phase in her life. Tristan popped his head into the library, his hair wet and a towel wrapped around his waist.

"Hey. Shower's all yours."

"Thanks."

"You get your mom?"

"Yeah. I'll tell you about it on the way to London," she promised, standing up from her perch.

"You look happy."

"I am," she agreed, giving him a kiss on the cheek. "I won't be long," she promised, leaving him to watch her walk down the hall to the bathroom. She'd just disappeared behind the door when his grandfather came out of his room, looking refreshed and ready to go.

"Tristan?"

"Yeah?"

Janlan smiled at the man's inability to truly focus on anything but where Rory had just been. He could easily remember a time in his life when he felt such things. He patted his grandson on the back.

"Just checking."

"For what?"

"You're in love," he stated.

"That I am."

"I'll be damned."

Tristan looked to Janlan and gave him a look. "You don't approve?"

"Quite the contrary. I'm impressed."

Tristan smiled. "I should go get dressed," he took leave of his grandfather and moved down the hall to the room that he and Rory had been sharing, in no hurry to speed up the end to this weekend away.


	18. Chapter 18

AN: Yeah, it took a while. Busy, busy, busy. Excuses found on my blog. On with the story.

"That was amazing!" she exclaimed, as he held the door open for her to pass through.

"You think so?"

"You didn't like it?"

"No, I did. You're just so enthusiastic about it," he teased.

"It was so much better than when I saw it on Broadway, it was the best production I've ever seen."

"It was impressive," he nodded, stopping by her door as she pulled her keys out of her bag. They'd left Janlan outside the theater, heading in separate directions after saying their goodbyes. "And I will agree that it was better here in London. Though that isn't always the case."

"So, shall we count this as a successful weekend?" she smiled, making no move to go into her now open door.

"Only if you plan on letting me come in there with you," he raised his eyebrows and wound his free arm around her waist as she moved backward into her room. His lips met hers and they fumbled into her room with closed eyes toward her bed.

"It's about damn time!"

They shot apart, Rory moving quickly behind Tristan out of instinct. She clutched a hand to her chest, willing her heart to slow as they saw it was just Dan, sitting on her bed. He was lightly swaying back and forth, looking at them in disdain.

"Jesus," Tristan swore, moving closer to their friend. "What the hell are you doing in here?"

"I was waiting for her," he pointed to Rory. "This is all her fault!"

It was more than obvious that Dan had been drinking; his slurred words were falling out of his mouth, and Tristan could smell the strong remnants on his breath at a not so close range.

"Dan, what are you talking about? What's my fault?"

"I talked to her—you told me to, and I was dumb, and I did. And do you know what I said?"

Rory looked to Tristan, still uneasy. "What did you say?" she bit.

"No, she said. I asked, she said."

Tristan held in a smile at the other man's inability to speak correctly. Rory sighed, and tried again.

"Right. So, what did she say?"

"Boyfriend. She has one, who's not me."

Rory's mouth fell open, as did Tristan's. Neither could believe the truth that Dan was speaking, as they'd both seen her with Dan. She didn't act like a girl with a boyfriend. Rory moved closer to Dan, and put her hand on his knee before smelling his breath and backing off.

"I'm so sorry, Dan. But isn't it better that you know?"

The look he gave her made it clear that he obviously did not think it was better to know. He'd been far better off in the dark. Or at least until he found the bottle of whatever had saturated his system. His face paled just then, and a strange rumbling sound came from his stomach. Tristan's eyes widened, and he crouched next to Dan.

"Hey, man, you feeling okay?"

Dan shook his head, and the obscure rumble was heard again.

"I think we should get him to a toilet, or a trashcan, or something that you won't want to kill him from spewing all over."

Rory nodded, and they attempted to help Dan up to his feet. He was unstable, to say the least, on his feet, and his tall frame wavered between Tristan and Rory. Rory nearly tumbled under the weight when he'd lean suddenly to her side, but Tristan tried to field the brunt of the near-dead weight. Luckily Dan had left his own door unlocked, and they got him into his private bathroom without too much of a scene. He just made it to the toilet when the contents of his stomach from what seemed like age five 'til now came back to haunt him. Rory made a face, but rubbed his back soothingly while Tristan got supplies together. He rounded up a bottle of aspirin, a damp washcloth, a glass of water and a couple of towels. Rory looked up at him in wonderment, and raised an eyebrow.

"What are the towels for?"

"Watch and learn."

She did just that, observing and soothing as Tristan spread out the towels on top of one another on the floor, and folding the last one up like a pillow near the toilet. Dan pulled back, having finished a round of expelling his stomach contents, and Tristan handed Rory the wet washcloth. She wiped Dan's forehead and cheeks, and folded it over to rest it on the back of his neck.

"Feeling better?"

Dan emitted a groan, indicating that he either did or didn't—they couldn't really be sure. Rory helped Tristan lower Dan onto the 'mat' he'd created on the floor, in perfect distance to the toilet for future use.

"You've done this before?" she asked, a lilt to her voice.

"I've had to take care of myself. The first time you have a forty-eight hour stomach flu and no one around to take care of you, you learn to keep the basic necessities in a small, convenient area."

"Right," she said, feeling sadness grip her stomach and tug. Now wasn't the time to ask him to expand upon what he'd just told her, but she couldn't help but feel sympathy for him as she thought of no one being around to care for him when he needed it the most.

"What time is it?" Tristan asked, looking around the room for a clock.

"It's almost eight—he has on call hours tonight!"

"I don't think he's going to be very effective," Tristan said, looking at their friend who was now a shade between yellow and pink. It wasn't pretty.

"We should stay and help him. I feel responsible," she admitted.

"You weren't the one toying with him. Were you?" he teased.

She hit him with a rolled up hand towel. "Shut up. I feel bad."

"Fine, you stay in here with him, do that nurturing thing you girls are supposed to be so good at, and I'll stay near the main room, in case someone comes by."

"Deal," she agreed, taking the washcloth and wringing it out, making it cool once again before placing it back on Dan's forehead. Tristan moved out to open Dan's door as it should have been a couple of hours ago, and both said a silent prayer that the hall would be quiet tonight.

XXXX

Two hours had gone by, and Rory was leaning up against the tub, listening to Tristan read aloud from _A Tale of Two Cities_. It was the only real piece of literature Dan had in his room, and Rory wouldn't let Tristan leave to get something from either of their rooms. She couldn't lift Dan alone, and she was afraid someone would come by saying a pipe had burst or something equally horrific. She'd gotten bored after the first hour, during which Dan mainly moaned and slept, requesting Tristan to read anything other than the 'graphic novels' Dan had.

"Excuse me?"

A new voice interrupted Tristan's monologue, and Rory sat up straighter, ready to move swiftly to shut the door between any onlookers and Dan's sullied form as it lay on the floor.

"Yeah, can I help you?" Tristan asked immediately.

"Where's Dan?"

"He's feeling a little under the weather, so I'm subbing in for him tonight. What do you need?"

"I need a hammer."

"A hammer? For what?"

"Why does that matter?" came the uneasy response.

"Uh, I guess it doesn't. Hang on, I'm sure he has tools somewhere," Tristan muttered, moving to open drawers.

"Closet!" Rory hissed.

"What was that?" the voice asked.

"Uh, nothing, here we go, hammer. Take your time," he instructed as he practically pushed the guy out into the hall with his tool.

"Thanks."

Rory heard the footsteps walk out of the room and Tristan stuck his head in the bathroom.

"Thanks, how did you know?"

"I know my way around all the boys' rooms," she teased.

"You're funny. Uh-oh."

Rory looked to see what Tristan was concerned about, to notice Dan was stirring, and his coloring was off again. They helped him to a seated position so he could vomit again, and they did their well-honed routine of getting Dan resituated on the floor. He was barely coherent, just muttering and groaning as he slid back down to the floor.

"What do you think he drank?" she asked, watching him to make sure his chest was rising and falling properly.

"A hell of a lot of something," Tristan let out a low whistle as he flushed the toilet again.

"Poor guy. Who would have thought she had another boyfriend?"

Dan groaned at the mention, a sign she took as positive—he was relatively conscious.

"Hello?"

Tristan and Rory looked to one another. They knew that voice.

"Elisa?" Tristan asked, moving out to the main room and pulling the bathroom shut behind him, but not latching it.

Rory moved to fix the washcloth again and gently rub her hand over Dan's back. He offered a small smile, and let out a soft groan before falling into what finally looked like a peaceful sleep.

"What are you doing here?"

"Where's Dan?"

"He's not feeling so good."

"I need to talk to him," she said, edging toward the bathroom.

"Not a good idea. Tomorrow, maybe."

"What's wrong with him, he was fine earlier."

"I wouldn't say that," he said knowingly.

"You don't understand."

"I understand enough. You can't just do that to people, Elisa."

"I just want to talk to Dan," she reiterated.

"Tomorrow," he said with authority. "You need to leave. He's really sick," he steered her towards the door.

"Tell him I'm sorry," she said softly, then turned to leave. He nodded and closed the door, moving back in to check on the pair in the bathroom. It was past ten, and he officially deemed Dan off duty. Rory was resting her head against the lip of the tub, and Dan was looking almost normal, sleeping on the towels next to the toilet.

"She gone?" Rory lifted her head up as Tristan stepped over Dan to sit next to her.

"Yeah. She says she's sorry."

Rory snorted. "I'll bet."

"You should go get some rest. I'll stay and watch him. At least his on call hours are over."

"I'll stay. It's not fair that you have to do this by yourself."

"I don't mind," he said, taking her hand in his. She rested her head on his shoulder and sighed.

"This isn't so bad," she breathed.

He smiled. "You are the easiest girl to please. We're sitting on Dan's bathroom floor, making sure he doesn't choke on his own vomit, and you're having a good time."

"What can I say? I'm very odd," she informed him.

Tristan let out a laugh, and closed his eyes for a minute, a clear picture of a younger version of themselves coming to mind. "I meant that in a good way."

"I thanked you, didn't I?"

"Would you take care of me like this?" he turned and looked at her.

"If you drank yourself into a stupor?"

He shrugged. "If anything."

She nodded. "Of course. I mean, I'm not saying I enjoy the regurgitating or anything," she winced. "That actually freaks me out."

"Well, you hide it well."

"What about you? Gonna hold my hair back next time I'm praying the porcelain god?"

He laughed at her euphemism. "Well, we can't have your pretty hair getting all disgusting, now can we?"

"I wonder if Mom and Luke are doing this right now."

"Morning sickness?" he asked knowingly.

"Yeah. She said that was the hardest part of hiding the pregnancy—she's had really bad nausea."

He was quiet for a minute, and stopped the small ministrations on her hand with his thumb. She turned to look at him again, and noticed the pensive look on his face.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Tristan, come on," she urged softly.

"Would you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Not tell the guy, if you, you know," he hinted.

"Oh. I don't know."

She looked away from him, his gaze a little too intense for her at the moment. His silence was deafening, and the only sound that filled the room was Dan's even but noisy breath.

"I mean, it would depend on the situation. Some guys wouldn't want to know," she hedged.

"I would," he said without hesitation.

"Oh," she said softly. "Okay."

He looked at her, as she took in the seriousness of the conversation. She opened her mouth to speak again, but before sound could reach her lips, they heard Dan stir again.

"Oww," he groaned holding his head in his hands. "Where am I?"

Tristan knelt next to his friend and smiled. "In your bathroom. You're looking better."

Rory moved next to him to inspect. "Definitely a more human-looking color."

"No hint of green anymore at all," Tristan continued.

"How you feeling, Champ?" she asked.

"Champ?" Tristan questioned her, bemused.

She shrugged as Dan moaned again. "Could you two keep your voices down?"

"Aspirin time," Tristan said, moving to reach the bottle and the glass of water. He offered them to Dan, who managed to swallow the two white pills and downed them with water.

"I feel like shit."

"What did you drink?" Rory asked, still curious.

"Big bottle. Brown," he muttered.

"Oh, that," she mocked.

"Sorry about this," Dan groaned.

"It's understandable," Rory nodded.

"Can you make it to bed?" Tristan asked.

"I'm good here. You guys, go," he insisted, in the strongest voice he could muster.

"You sure?" Rory asked, standing up as Tristan helped pull her off the floor.

"I'm sure. Just come back in the morning, hold a mirror under my nose?"

"Will do," Tristan promised, and led Rory out of the room, leaving Dan to his misery.

She sighed once they reached the darkened hallway. It'd been a quiet Saturday night, not surprising since most people hit the town or studied on most weekends. There weren't many people hanging about in the dorms at any rate.

"What a night," she said, thinking of their last bit of private conversation.

"Yeah. Poor guy."

"Yeah. So," she bit her lip, suddenly unsure as to the protocol.

"It's late. We should get to bed."

"Right, bed."

"Mine or yours?"

"Mine, if you don't mind. Mom might call at any time, for any number of insane reasons."

"Pregnancy hormones," he nodded.

"Right."

"Let's go," he said, putting his weary arm around her equally tired shoulders and they stumbled back to her room, closing the rest of the world out for the remainder of the evening.


	19. Chapter 19

AN: Wow. So a few of you think the pregnancy thing is foreshadowing. Just wanted to alleviate fears—won't be making Rory pregnant here. Lorelai is, and that's enough. But I love that you're all paying good attention, and thank you all for the faithful reviewing! Oh, and this chapter is light on Trory interaction, but the next one will be heavy on it. Cross my heart and hope to die.

A few weeks had passed since Dan's night of trauma-induced drinking and all the fun after-effects. He'd been pale and quiet for a few days following the night spent sleeping on his bathroom floor, but kept the destructive behavior capped. He avoided Elisa as a whole—the mention of, references to, and actual sight of her were maneuvered around at all costs. Tristan had passed on her apologetic message to Dan, but he'd just turned his music up and ignored him.

"Can I ask you something?" Tristan stopped by Dan's room after class one October evening, knowing Rory wouldn't be around for another couple of hours. Her hours had only gotten longer at the BBC, as the powers that be had started to recognize her raw talent and were now heaping more and more responsibilities on her a little at a time.

Dan looked up from his computer. "Hey, anything."

"Were you serious about owing us one?"

Dan nodded. "Of course. If it hadn't been for you guys," he trailed off, not really wanting to think what would have happened if he'd been caught incapacitated like that while on duty.

Tristan smiled. "Not that we weren't happy to help you out, but I do have something I want," he raised an eyebrow.

"Anything."

"I would like the use of your private bathroom."

"Right now?"

"Tomorrow night."

"For how long?"

Tristan shrugged. "Dunno. Four, five hours, tops."

Dan gaped. "What the hell are you going to do in my bathroom for five hours?"

Tristan smirked. "You should probably go somewhere—you could hang in my room if you want."

"Am I going to have to disinfect it after your time in there?"

"That's between you and your imagination."

"I'm going to regret this, but I guess I do owe you."

"Yes, you do."

Dan looked at him for a moment before nodding. "Yeah, sure."

"Excellent," he nodded before moving to leave the room.

"Hey, what's tomorrow?"

"What?"

"Why do you want it tomorrow, is it a special day?"

"It's her birthday," he nodded.

"And you're going to spend it in my bathroom?"

Tristan laughed. "Just part of the time."

"Alright. Good luck with that plan," Dan scoffed.

"Thanks," Tristan said without a worry in the world, moving out into the hallway to start on the evening of study he needed to get done before the weekend hit.

XXXX

Rory was frantically trying to locate her cell phone in her book bag as she hurried to catch the closing main door into the dorm. It was late, almost ten o'clock, and she needed to get some studying done before she finally got to sleep. She had a test the next day, and she was grateful to know that Tristan would still be up for a couple of hours, so she'd at least get the opportunity to give him proof that she hadn't taken up residence at the news office or been eaten alive by the growing mound of paperwork that scattered her desk—or rather the desk she shared with three other interns.

"I have no time to hear about how many times you've dreamed of Luke decorated with ice cream sundae toppings or to discuss the fact that it is the dirtiest dream you've ever had, though I would care to mention that the fact you feel comfortable sharing the details of such dreams shows we have in fact grown too close and maybe this time apart is doing us some good," she chattered into the phone, trying to pull her book bag back up properly onto her shoulder as she answered.

"Well," Logan's voice shocked her into a standstill. "I can't say I've ever dreamed of another man covered in ice cream toppings. Though I did once have a dream that you," he started, but she cut him off.

"Why are you calling me?"

"I wanted to see how you were doing."

"Oh. I'm fine."

"Am I not allowed to call you?"

"I just thought we'd kind of said all we needed to say."

"We can't be friends?"

"Uh, well," she stammered, feeling awkward and really glad this conversation was taking place on the phone, if it had to happen at all. "I hadn't really thought about it, I guess."

"Well, I have. I would like to be able to talk to you sometimes. Maybe meet you for coffee every now and then. I know you've obviously moved on," he admitted.

"Yes, I have."

"I don't want to get in the way of that. I just wanted to say happy birthday, and extend the olive branch. I'm sorry for coming out there like that—I shouldn't have."

"Agreed," she stopped chewing the inside of her cheek to respond. "And thank you," she added.

"You're welcome."

"I should go, Tristan's waiting for me," she said, feeling the need to get off the phone.

"Right. You're happy, with him?"

"I am."

"Okay. Bye, Rory."

"Bye," she shut her phone and stared at it for a moment before getting herself back in gear and hurrying up to her room.

XXXX

"So, you want the good news or the bad news first?" he asked as she fell into his chair next to his bed. She groaned loudly and threw her legs over the arm of the chair to pull them off the ground. Her shoes hung off the heels of her feet, and she rolled her head over to look at him.

"No bad news. Too tired for bad news," she protested.

He stood up and moved to kneel next to her. "It's not real bad news. Just in contrast to the very good news, it won't be as exciting to you."

She nodded in consent. "Good news first."

"I have your birthday all planned out," he smiled. She gave a wide smile too, sitting up in interest.

"Really?"

He nodded. "But you get to know nothing in advance," he admitted.

"That is bad news," she pouted.

"Told you."

"Not even a little hint?"

"Nope."

"But it's my 21st birthday."

"I know."

"So, a big night of getting me drunk and trying to take advantage of my altered state?"

"This is what you think of me?"

She shrugged. "It is some sort of sick tradition in our culture."

"Lucky for you, we aren't amidst 'our culture.' And might I add, I've never needed you to get drunk to have my way with you."

She blushed and sank down further into the chair cushions. "How is it that you know my birthday and I don't know yours?"

"I have an excellent memory, and a family that doesn't feel compelled to send out engraved invitations to embarrass me in front of my entire school."

"Right. Must be nice."

"You look exhausted," he commented, running a hand through her hair that was falling down out of the ponytail she'd pulled it into hours ago.

"I could go for a nap. Unfortunately, I have a test to study for."

He kissed her forehead. "I've resigned myself to the fact you'll always pick studying over me."

She smiled, and put her hand over his. "I'm all yours to pamper tomorrow evening."

"You're so good to me."

"Time?"

"I'll pick you up at 5:30 sharp."

"Night," she said, standing up and giving him one last kiss before heading back to her room to settle down to cram for a few more hours before allowing herself rest.

XXXX

"No hints at all?"

"No."

"He likes the living dangerously, doesn't he?"

"I can only suppose so."

"I can't believe you won't be here for your 21st birthday! I had such great plans—taking you out, buying you shots, getting you a lap dance," she babbled.

"You can't drink," she reminded.

"No, but I could have lived vicariously."

"Well, if Tristan gives me a lap dance, I'll be sure to tell you all about it," she laughed, pulling stares from those around her in the hallway waiting to get into the still occupied classroom. She turned to face the other direction as she listened to her mother's overly dramatic gagging noises.

"Is he at least taking you out?"

"What part of he won't tell me anything did you not understand?"

"Fine. So, the insanity continues here at home."

"You don't say."

"Do you even want details?"

"Always. The specific instances of oddity are what build the credibility of our mass generalizations."

"They're trying to plan the wedding."

"Who is, exactly?"

"The whole town."

"Why aren't you planning your wedding?"

"When we hadn't set a date after it was announced at the town meeting," she began.

"You announced you were getting married at the town meeting?"

"Uh, no. Patty did."

"Patty announced your engagement?"

"Yep. They all started barraging us with questions, when, where, etc. We had no answers, and I thought Luke was going to pass out from the rapid fire format. It was worse than _Crossfire_. The next day, it started."

"What started?"

"Kirk came by the inn to have me approve invitations, and ask which number style and font I preferred."

"Very important considerations."

"Then Babette caught me after work, to tell me she needed to have a trial session with me as soon as possible."

"Trial session?"

"Yeah, you know, to do my hair and makeup."

"Babette's doing your hair and makeup?"

"Oh no. Luke took care of it all."

"By doing what?"

"By threatening to double his prices if people didn't back off and butt out."

"Nice tactical maneuver."

"I will pass the compliment on. Besides, I didn't want to get married until you could get back, and by then I'll be showing, so I was sort of thinking of putting it off until I can be back to my svelte self."

"Aw, you love me enough to have your second child out of wedlock?"

"That I do. Besides, I figure you turned out okay, so it can't do too much damage. It's not like Luke won't be there grunting at the kid—it'll know who its father is."

"Right. So, can I bring a date?"

"Hmm. That depends. Just who are you planning on bringing?" she teased.

"I'm sure I'll find someone to bring by the time you set a date."

"Have fun tonight, and happy birthday!"

"I will. And thanks for not calling at three in the morning."

"Thank your sibling. I was too tired."

"I will."

Rory hung up and turned off her phone, as people began to spill out of the classroom, leaving it open for her to make her way into.

XXXX

"Out!" Tristan announced as he put his bag down on Dan's bed. Dan looked up from his computer, but continued typing.

"I am in the middle of something."

"I only have a half an hour to get this ready."

"And my typing will hinder you somehow?"

"Good point. But I'm getting Rory at 5:30."

"Fine. I'll be done in twenty minutes, max."

"Going out tonight?" Tristan asked as he opened his bag and pulled out some candles.

"Yep."

"Alone?"

"No."

"Hot date?" he pulled out what looked like bath salts and more candles, and moved back into the bathroom. "When was the last time you cleaned the bathroom?"

"No and last night."

"I'm touched. Why are you going out with someone who you think isn't hot?"

Dan sighed and paused his typing. "I didn't say she wasn't hot, I said the date wouldn't be hot. It's not even a date."

Tristan nodded and pulled out two champagne glasses. "So, who's the hot girl you aren't dating?"

"Elisa."

"What?" Tristan came back in, gaping at his friend. "You've been avoiding her for weeks."

"She wants to talk," he shrugged. "She said she wanted to explain the situation."

"You've been making us check the dining hall before you'll go in, rather than be in the same room with her."

"I'm just going to get an apology."

"You're nuts."

"Says the man who's making my bathroom all frilly."

"I'll take it all away when I'm done."

"Does she know she's spending her birthday in my bathroom?"

"It's just to relax first—she's had a stressful couple of weeks."

"You aren't proposing in my bathroom, are you?" he asked as Tristan pulled out a bottle of champagne and a lighter.

"What? No."

"Good. 'Cause you'd never live that down."

"Thanks for the advice, but I know what I'm doing."

Dan shrugged and went back to his typing. Tristan continued his set up in relative silence for a few moments, until he heard Dan's fingers stop moving and he cleared his throat.

"Do you think I shouldn't go?"

"To see Elisa?"

"Yeah. I mean, she has a boyfriend, there's no point, right?"

Tristan shrugged. "How much do you like her?"

Dan looked from his keyboard back up to Tristan. "I like her a lot, but if she has a boyfriend, then what's the point?"

"Go and listen to what she has to say. You can always leave if you don't like what she says. Her having a boyfriend isn't necessarily a problem for you."

Dan nodded, and stood up. "I'm all done here. Tell Rory happy birthday for me."

Tristan nodded back at his friend. "Will do. And good luck, man."

Dan left his room, leaving Tristan to double check his set up and make sure he hadn't forgotten anything. He wanted this night to go well, and he was more than excited to pick her up and get this evening started. With their hectic schedules, they didn't have as much time together as they would like, but they managed to keep their weekends sacred. And he wanted to start this one off perfectly. Once everything was in order in Dan's bathroom, he stowed the bag under the bed and went out in search of the birthday girl.


	20. Chapter 20

She opened the door to reveal that she'd done quite a bit of preparation for this date. She was in a nice dress, high heels, and her hair was curled. She smiled until she took in his attire. Now sporting a confused frown, she held onto the door instead of coming through it.

"Why are you in a bathrobe?"

He just smirked and motioned for her to return to her room. "For the same reason I need you to go change into yours as well."

"I'm confused."

"I can see that. Hurry up, we don't have all night," he insisted, and she gave him one last bewildered look before doing as he said, leaving him in the hallway as she shimmied out of her dress and shoes and clipped her beautiful curls up off her neck. Securing her robe around her waist, she reopened the door to find him still standing, waiting impatiently.

"That was cold, making me wait out here and have to mentally envision you changing," he informed her.

She gave a blush. "Where are we going?"

"This way," he offered his arm as he escorted her to Dan's door. She eyed him carefully as he opened it, and locked it behind them. She could see a soft, flickering glow coming from the open bathroom door, and she stepped slowly in front of him towards it. She stopped in the doorframe and gasped.

"Tristan, you did all of this?"

Stepping behind her, he slid his arms around her waist and pulled her back flush against him. He loved the feel of her silky robe under his fingertips, and he dug them in further.

"Maybe."

She smiled and turned around in his arms. "'Cause sometimes you get decorator elves that will come in and do things like this," she teased.

"Very funny. If you don't like it," he started.

"I love it," she silenced him and reached up to kiss him before turning back around to face the beautiful scene he'd created. There were candles everywhere. A full bathtub filled with bubbles and rose petals, and on the closed toilet lid sat a bucket filed with ice and champagne.

"Good. Shall we?"

She nodded, and let him slide her robe down her shoulders. She eased herself into the hot water, relishing the sensation as she could feel her muscles relaxing into it. She closed her eyes as she sank into the mass of bubbles and flowers, deciding that it'd been way too long since she'd had such a luxury. She opened her eyes and looked to Tristan, who was still standing back, watching her.

"Gonna join me?"

He nodded. "In just a minute," he said, moving to pour two glasses of champagne and handing one off to her. Once she was fully set, he joined her, sitting facing her across the sea of foamy bubbles. Both took a long sip, and rested the glasses on the side of the tub.

"This is perfect. How did you get use of this room?"

"I have my connections," he mysteriously answered.

"You held his night of drunken debauchery over him, didn't you?"

"Maybe."

"This is just what I needed. The best present a girl could get."

"This is just phase one."

Rory's eyes lit up. "Phase one?"

"A warm up, if you will."

"You didn't have to go through all this effort."

"Are you enjoying yourself?"

"Yes, but," she smiled.

"Then it was worth the effort."

She leaned back and nestled her legs around his in the tub. She took another drink of champagne, looking around at all the things Tristan had done to the bathroom.

"I think I'm going to enjoy turning 21."

"How was your day?"

"Busy. And a little nerve-racking."

"You get an A minus?" he teased.

"The boss' secretary came in to schedule a meeting with me for next week."

"What's that about?"

Rory shrugged. "Dunno. She couldn't, or wouldn't, say. Just that I have to be in his office at 4:30 next Tuesday afternoon."

"I'm sure it's to praise all your hard work, what with all those long hours that keep you away from your very lonely boyfriend," he pouted as he ran a hand up her smooth calf, kneading the muscle on the way up to the back of her knee, which he ran his fingers over lightly, tickling her.

"Yes, you poor neglected baby."

"Hey, be nice to me, or I won't give you your present."

"The mocking will cease. I just hope the meeting is about something good."

"I wouldn't worry about it," he assured her.

"So, there was a mention of a present?" she asked hopefully.

He laughed and nodded. "One that you will receive later."

"Aw, now, is that anyway to treat the birthday girl?"

He leaned up and pulled her by her legs into his lap. She giggled, and he ran a hand over her face, the bubbles that were clinging to his skin transferring onto hers. She protested, pulling her head back away from his grasp.

"Hey, I got all pretty for you, and you're ruining it," she chastised.

"Impossible," he traced a finger over her lips, leaving no trace of soap this time. She leaned in before he got the chance and kissed him, weaving her own soap-covered digits into his hair. She moved to wrap her legs around his torso, bringing them closer together, and his hands slid down her back, resting them on her butt to anchor her more in place. She let out a slight moan as she pulled out of the kiss, his momentum building as he continued to kiss her flesh, down her cheek and onto her neck.

He pulled up and looked at her pleasure-doused face, knowing that she was falling into his touch, feeling no need to hold back. He had things planned for them to do, and this wasn't where he wanted to consummate the evening. It was just hard not to touch her at all, his instincts driving him as she sat nestled against him, her flesh hot against his.

"Hey," he breathed, taking one more trail down her neck.

"Mmm?" she nuzzled her face into his shoulder, noting the contrast of the rose petals and his scent that filled her senses.

"I wanted to ask you something," he said, looking at her as she moved slowly up to do the same.

"Ask away," she mused, the corners of her mouth turned up in a state of contentment.

"I was speaking with my father yesterday," he paused, as if trying to figure out what level of detail to give her about the conversation. "And I have been roped into having to meet him in Europe next week."

She gave a pout, catching his meaning that he would be out of town for an extended time.

"Oh. Where?"

"Paris," he said, his tone unaffected, despite her instant peaked interest.

"Paris is amazing! I wish we'd gotten to spend more time there when I went with my mother."

"I'm glad to hear you say that. I was thinking about how it was going to suck to be stuck in Paris all week, alone, and wishing you could come with me, but of course you have your internship, but then it occurred to me," he stopped babbling as her smile grew wider. He cleared his throat and continued. "That maybe you'd like to join me for the weekend."

"In Paris?" she sat up straighter, making sure this was the offer he was really making.

"In Paris."

"Oh my God, I'd love to! Are you sure it's okay, with your family and all?"

Tristan shrugged. "The old man has no say in who shares my bed. He just dictates that I go."

"Wow, I wish my father made me to go Paris for a week," she commented.

"Well, it wasn't my first choice," he replied honestly. "But I figured you might enjoy it."

She nodded and kissed him. "That I will. Wow, a weekend in Paris."

He watched her revel in her good luck, and he felt suddenly better about his own having to go. His father's demands on his time never spelled out good news for him, but her proximity might lessen the blow this time around.

"Is that my present?" she asked, bringing him out of his thoughts.

He shook his head. "Nope. Just an offer."

"Well, it's accepted."

"Good. I have your plane ticket in my room."

"Hmm, someone's sure of himself."

"I'm sorry, did you see your face when I asked you?" he teased.

"Fine. I was excited. But who wouldn't be excited to go to Paris with someone they love? It is the City of Love, you know."

"I've heard. I've just never gone with someone I love before," he informed her, brushing her cheek again with soft fingertips.

"Well, there is a first time for everything," she sighed, staring into his blue eyes.

Lost again in yet another smoldering kiss, they continued to enjoy the warm bath for a while longer, until the water chilled to the point that she gave an active shiver. He held her at this point in his arms, her back leaning into his chest.

"Ready to get out?"

"Yeah. Are you ready for phase two?"

"It's about that time. After you," he allowed her to step carefully out of the tub, and wrap a towel around her body. She handed him one as well, admiring his form as he moved to empty the tub and join her.

"So, am I allowed to get dressed again, or do I need to wear something specific?"

He seemed to consider this for a moment. "Do you have a French maid's uniform?"

"No, but my mother does," she informed him, to which he openly grimaced.

"Wow. Details I never needed to know."

"You asked. Besides, tell me that isn't one of your fantasies," she pleaded. "It's so overdone."

He smirked. "You really want to hear about my fantasies?" he asked, his low voice causing her to shudder a bit.

"I, uh, well," she stammered, the heat practically rolling off of her body.

"Later, Mary. Let's go get dressed," he motioned to the door, at the ready to follow her lead.

XXXX

Rory's cell phone rang just as they got out of the back of the cab, and she checked it before turning off the ringer and slipping it back into her handbag. She smiled quickly at Tristan, saying nothing.

"Not important?"

"Not really."

"Your mom?"

"Uh, no. She already made her long-winded birth story birthday call."

"Birth story?"

"Your mother doesn't regale you with the unending trauma to her body that was your debut into the world every year?"

He looked at her in horror. "Uh, no. I've never heard anyone speak of my actual birth."

Rory nodded. "Count yourself lucky, my friend. My mother would have a slide show, if at all possible."

"I'll do that. So, who was it?"

She looked to him, noting the edge in his voice. He was trying to be innocuous, but failing. She'd known him too well for too long.

"It really isn't important."

"Rory," he sighed, stopping on the middle of the sidewalk.

"Where are we headed?" she asked, trying again to divert his attention.

"Why won't you tell me who called?" his tone was demanding, tired of her attempts to redirect him.

"What does it matter?"

"It doesn't, I just want to know."

"Oh my God. Do you not …," she trailed off, as he stood in front of her, his arms crossed over his chest.

"Do I not what?"

"Trust me. You don't trust me."

"I trust you. I just think that you could tell me who's calling you during our date."

"It was my dad, okay?"

He looked surprised as she erupted at him, her phone flipping open to show him that her screen read 'one missed call: Dad.' He looked from the screen, ashamed and instantly wishing to take back the last two minutes.

"Do you want to know why I didn't want to talk to my dad?"

"Not if you don't want to discuss it," he answered honestly.

"Really? Because if that were true, we wouldn't even be having this conversation," she shot back, making the gnawing feeling in his stomach more intense. She looked at his face, taking in his discomfort, but continued anyhow.

"I didn't want to talk to him because we don't have the best of relationships. It always starts off with the best of intentions and leaves me disappointed, crying over what should have been, and usually taking care of my mother, who also gets crushed in the process. So sometimes, when I'm in a good mood, I don't like to ruin it by getting into things with him."

Her anger level was only rising, and he stepped forward to put his hands on her arms.

"Rory, calm down," he instructed her, as they were attracting onlookers. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have assumed," he shook his head.

She stared at the ground for a few moments before looking back up at him. "Logan called last night."

"What?"

"Last night, on my way home, Logan called me."

He didn't say a word, but she took his silence as an opportunity to give him what he'd so obviously wanted. "He wanted to know how I was, and to wish me a happy birthday. He says he wants to be friends. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

"What did you say?" the edge back in his voice as his suspicions were confirmed.

"Do you hear yourself? Seriously, do you comprehend how insane this entire conversation is? Or is this how you envisioned this evening going?"

"You expect me to just brush this off and pretend like it's a non-issue?"

"The only 'issue' I see here is your inability to trust me."

"I do trust you. It's him I don't trust."

"You don't even know him!"

"I know enough. I know that he wants you back. He made that perfectly clear."

"Oh my God. I have to get out of here," she said, turning to hail a cab.

Tristan moved to grab her hand, to pull her back next to him and prevent her from leaving. He saw the evening disintegrating, feeling as if he were grasping at sand running through his fingers, just as her hand was.

"You can't leave."

"I'm not about to stay and be treated like this, on my birthday or any other day," she said, looking into his eyes before getting into the back of the car and closing the door after her, leaving him standing on the street. He stared after the car as it disappeared into the mass of others, heading away from him and the whole situation.

XXXX

"Hello?"

"I'm sorry to call out of the blue like this."

"It's fine, I'm not busy. What's going on?"

"I needed a friend," she bit her lip, willing the tears not to reemerge. She'd cried all the way back to her room, and left a woeful message on her mother's answering machine. And on her cell voicemail. Then on Lane's machine. She was out of other options. She just wanted to feel safe and understood.

"I'm here. Tell me what happened," Logan said calmly, waiting for her to attempt to fight off the tears that were going to come anyway.

AN: Okay. No one freak out. There is a plan. The wrench was included in said plan. Thanks for reviewing, to each and every one of you who are so incredible about the feedback. Hope you enjoyed this installment!


	21. Chapter 21

AN: The plan is in action. Perhaps not as quick of a resolution as you'd like, but Trory lovers don't fear—it's coming.

"We had a fight," she sniffed, willing herself to automatically recompose her crumbling exterior as it fell—not to mention her interior. She felt as if someone had taken a razor blade to the inside of her skin, as if trying to slash their way out. Soon she'd fall to the floor in a pile of shards.

"We?" his hesitant question came.

"Tristan and I."

"Ah. The boyfriend."

"Yeah. Do you not want to hear about this?" she sniffled again.

She heard Logan give a sigh, and knowing him as she did, she could almost hear him formulating the exact response he wanted to give. He chose his words carefully most of the time, unless he was lost in the heat of a moment.

"I want us to be friends, no matter what that entails."

"Thanks."

"So, what were you fighting about?"

"My phone rang during our date," she said after taking a long breath. "It was my dad."

"Oh, shit."

"Yeah, so I ignored it, and he wouldn't let it go. He kept hounding me about who had called, wanting to know."

"Doesn't he know the deal with you and your dad?"

"He does now," she bit her lip. "Well, what I blurted out the short version at him after I realized what was going on."

"What was going on?" Logan asked, clearly not quite understanding the trouble.

"He thought it was you."

"Ah. I see."

"And he was mad, at the idea that you'd be calling."

"Sorry."

"Don't be. I told him you had called, and that we had decided to stay friends," she explained.

"I'm guessing he doesn't like that idea so much."

"Not exactly."

"Do you want me to talk to him?"

"No. God, no. I mean, I've dated enough guys to know they don't like their girlfriend's past boyfriends. But I'm with him, why isn't that enough for him to trust me?"

"Rory," he sighed. "What I did was stupid. Had I known there was a boyfriend, I probably wouldn't have done it," he paused, holding her full attention. "I missed you, I thought the door was still open. We've been through a lot, and I don't particularly like the fact that you moved on so effortlessly, but at the same time, I'm not going to be that guy. I want you to be happy."

"And I appreciate that. Tristan, however, wasn't buying the idea that you would step aside so graciously."

"Look, sometimes, guys do boneheaded things."

"You don't say. But was it necessary for him to ruin my 21st birthday? God, we were having the perfect night. We're supposed to go to Paris next weekend, now everything's ruined."

"Look, do you love him?"

The sound of he words coming from Logan's mouth was unreal to her. She'd heard him tell her he loved her, but she'd never thought of a scenario while they were together that would include him asking her if she loved someone else. But here he was, being the better man, and helping her be with Tristan. If that was even possible now.

"Yes."

"Then go to him. Explain in full sentences and calm tones about your father and why that's such a sore spot for you. Tell him I wish the two of you the best of luck because I've realized that I blew my one and only chance completely, and flash him those wide blue eyes that seem to work in hypnotizing grown men. You'll be nauseatingly happy in Paris before you know it."

"Thank you, Logan."

"You're welcome, Ace."

She hung up the phone and set it down on her bed. She stood up to look in the mirror, at the rumpled dress that wrinkled as she balled herself up on her bed, at the streaked mascara from the tears that had flowed fast and hot down her cheeks while she tried to reach her loved ones back in the States as the events of the night played over in her head. She pulled her dress off and slipped into a fresh one, and moved to the door so she could wash her face off before going off in search of Tristan.

XXXX

Upon emerging from the hall bathroom, she walked up to Dan, who was standing dead still in front of his door.

"Hey, have you seen Tristan?"

Dan looked to her, concern covering his face. "Have you?"

"I don't understand. What's wrong?"

"Did you two have a fight?"

"You could say that. I need to talk to him, have you seen him?"

"He had a suitcase with him, he just left. He looked like someone had died," Dan shook his head, as Rory's face paled in realization of his words.

"He had a suitcase?"

Dan nodded. "What happened?"

"Oh my God," she closed her eyes, feeling faint. She heard Tristan's words from earlier in the evening, telling her that her plane ticket was in his room. "Can you let me into his room?"

"No. No way, leave me out of this," Dan shook his head.

"Please. Something of mine is in there—you can go with me, I'll prove it to you," she swore.

Dan looked at her panicked face and her clearly worried stance. She looked like she might pass out, especially when he said Tristan had left with a packed suitcase. He had no idea where he'd gone, but he got the feeling she knew exactly where he'd gone and why.

"Fine. But it had better have your name on it, or be pink and frilly, or you aren't leaving the room with it," Dan muttered, going into his room and retrieving his master keys. He'd had to use them way more often over the course of this semester, and it was only half over at this point.

"So, what did you do?" he asked as he unlocked Tristan's door and they stepped inside. She bee-lined for his desk, and shrugged her shoulders.

"What makes you think I did something?"

"He looked miserable. If he was entirely to blame, he would have been more pissed off, angry with himself."

"We had a fight. End of story. Damnit, where is it?" she had rifled through a stack of papers, and scanned the rest of the contents that lay on top of his desk. She opened a drawer and began searching through there.

"What are you looking for? Where did he go?"

"He went to Paris. And I need to do the same thing," she said, shaking her head as she closed the drawer in frustration. "Damnit!"

Dan gave her a sympathetic look. "Try calling him."

She shook her head. "He'll have turned his phone off."

"Worth a shot," he offered.

"What am I going to do? He'll be gone all week, and now I have no way of going to him. I don't have the kind of money to jet off to Paris."

"I would lend you money, but I don't have it either. He bought you a ticket?"

She nodded and let out a sad laugh. "Yeah. He did. Looks like it went with him."

Dan put his arm around Rory, and she leaned into his shoulder. The tears came back, glassing her blue eyes before spilling their heavy contents out beyond her eyelids. "Can I buy you some coffee?"

She shook her head. "I just need to be alone."

"He'll be back in a week, right? A week's not so bad. You'll both see that the fight was stupid and make up."

"I need to talk to him now. I can't have him go all week thinking. . . I need to find him. I'm going to the airport. He has to be on standby, he wasn't supposed to go until tomorrow," she said, standing up straighter and wiping the tears away from her cheeks. She had a plan, and set out to execute it, leaving Dan to lock up.

XXXX

She sat impatiently in the back of the cab as it drove as fast as traffic would allow towards the airport. She cursed the throngs of cars blocking her path, and saying a silent prayer that he was caught in the same traffic. Her phone rang and she pulled it open immediately, hoping for the best.

"Tristan?"

"No, Hon, it's me. What's wrong, you sounded, well sound, horrible."

"Tristan and I had a fight about Logan, it's a long story. He left, and I'm on my way to try to find him at Heathrow."

"Did Logan pull something again?" Lorelai's voice broke with impatience and frustration. "I'll kill that kid, I swear!"

"No, Mom, he didn't. Dad called, and I wouldn't answer, and Tristan just assumed it was Logan. I had talked to Logan, so I told him that, and it just got ugly."

"Wait, Chris called and you didn't answer?"

"I'm still mad about the whole way he handled the wedding situation. He and I had just gotten on speaking terms again, and he pulled that, and I don't know. We just haven't had much contact since then."

"You mean you've been avoiding him."

"Yeah."

"Oh, kid. I'm sorry."

"It's fine. It's just that I haven't explained that situation to Tristan, and he doesn't get why I told Logan we could stay friends, and he completely overreacted," she rambled.

"Did you, by chance, as well?"

"I might have accused him of not trusting me."

"It's not you he doesn't trust," she hedged.

"I know. He told me that, but he doesn't even know Logan."

"Look at what he does know! Can you blame him?"

"He could give him a second chance," she pointed out.

"Not everyone is as forgiving as you are. You give people billions of chances."

"I'm not ready to talk to Dad again," she took her mother's meaning as two-fold.

"I'm not going to ask you to. You'll work that out on your own. I'm still not talking to him, either," she pointed out.

"We were supposed to go to Paris."

"And he's going alone?"

"He was going for the week, and he was supposed to have me join him next weekend, but he left after our fight. I'm going to try to catch him and explain," she filled her mother in on all the missing details.

"Good. I'm sure it'll all work out. He seems to be crazy about you."

"He was."

"Hey, don't take a defeatist attitude! It's not how your mother raised you."

"You're right. Speaking of raising children, how's my sibling?"

"Uh, growing eyes at the moment, I believe. Wait, yep, definitely corneas in development at the current moment."

"You're funny."

"So I've been told. You going to be okay?"

"I will if I can find him. I'm here. I'll talk to you later."

"Good luck, kid."

She hung up her phone, paid the driver, and took off into the mass of people that seemed to be hovering in and around the busy airport. She went to the information center and asked if there were any available seats on any flights to Paris. He had to be on one of them, and she had to start somewhere. The woman at the desk informed her there was one flight with a few extra seats available that would be leaving in two hours, and asked if she'd like to book the flight. She declined and asked if she could have a passenger paged and asked to come to the information desk to meet her. She asked the name of the passenger, and pressed the button to broadcast her voice over the whole of the sound system. Rory closed her eyes as his name was spoken with the thick British accent, and hoped he would come.

XXXX

Rory walked back into the dorm, and looked around for a moment. Everything seemed still, too quiet. She had waited in the airport by the woman who watched her with great curiosity from the other side of the counter, asking if she wanted her to try again until they both knew Tristan wasn't coming. She made her way up to her room, and pulled her keys out of her pocket to insert into the lock of her door. She noticed an envelope taped to the front of her door, with her name scrawled on the front. She opened the envelope and took out the folded paper inside. Plane tickets with her name of it fell out of the folds, and she gave a smile of disbelief as she read the note.

'Rory—

Found these upon greater inspection after you left. They were under his pillow, for whatever reason. It did have your name on it, after all. Hope it helps.

Dan'

She fingered the ticket, running her finger over the date she was to leave. Friday night, three hours after her last class let out. He'd timed everything perfectly. He'd taken her thoughts, feelings, and schedule into consideration. She'd jumped at him, accusing him out of frustration that was only partly meant for him. It was possible that she'd never felt so bad about anything in her entire life.

She'd talked this over with everyone except for him. She knew what she had to do. Her friends and family gave great advice, but he was the only one she wanted to talk it over with—she wanted to apologize and explain and feel his arms pull her in closer as he kisses her reassuringly. They'd both misunderstood the situation, and she hoped he would want to resolve it and move on as she did. Her stomach was in knots and her heart literally felt wrung out. This had to be resolved now. Armed with her plane ticket for the following Friday, she relocked her door and headed back out to the street. He'd been right—she shouldn't have left, and now she wasn't going to let him go without her either.


	22. Chapter 22

AN: Got most of this written and had a slight block. Sorry for the longer wait for the bit of an angsty last chapter. More angst here and to come, but I hope you'll find the last part less angsty, especially after the last two.

"Hello?" came a sleepy response from the still mostly asleep recipient of this particular phone call.

"Okay, you're a rich 22-year-old man in Paris, where are you staying?"

"I'm sorry, what?"

"I don't have time for questions, I need answers!"

"Why didn't you call the other rich 20-something boy you actually know and wake him up in the middle of the night to ask him?"

"Because I didn't think of that, and I already called him for help," she answered honestly.

"Did you try the Ritz?" Lorelai sighed.

"The Ritz, great, hang on," she told her mother as she instructed the driver of her new destination.

"So, you're in Paris, safe and sound?"

"Yes. And hopefully Tristan won't put me out on the street when he sees me."

"He wouldn't do that."

"You don't even know him."

"I know he's important to you, and that this fight you've had is nothing in comparison to how you two feel about each other."

"I might need you to explain that to him later," she bit her lip in worry.

"Just give me a call, I'm glad to do it. I'm good at getting boys to see things my way," she assured her daughter.

"I really am going to call and see how you are one of these days, not just blurt out my own personal crises."

"I believe you. By the way, I'm having triplets and Luke is building an extension onto the house."

"What?"

"Just seeing if you were up to paying attention to your mother. I'm pretty sure there's just one swimming around in there."

"I'm calling Luke later to make sure you haven't switched your decaf back to caf."

"Evil. Good luck."

"Thanks."

She hung up the phone again and tapped her foot impatiently as she waited for her cab to pull to a stop. She'd been on autopilot since obtaining her ticket to Paris, the only thought in her mind was what to say to Tristan when she tracked him down. So far, she wasn't having much luck with that, but at least she was getting good leads on where to find him.

XXXX

Armed with the key that the concierge had given her, due to the fact that Tristan had the good sense to add her name to his register upon reserving his room, and not the foresight to cancel it upon arrival, she turned the lock slowly and opened the door while saying a small prayer that he would be in the room and not out in the city. Paris was not a place she'd be able to track him down in—the possibilities of his whereabouts were literally endless if he weren't in the hotel room. Honestly she was just relieved that she'd chosen the right hotel and the man behind the desk had nodded in recognition when she said Tristan's name.

The room was dark due to the fact that all the massive draperies were drawn closed. No internal lighting had been turned on, and everything was cast under a shadow. Allowing her eyes a moment to adjust to the semi-darkness, she caught sight of him. He sat alone in an armchair, a table with a half-empty bottle and a mostly full glass of a dark liquid on it. His hand still grasped the glass, resting it from its journey back and forth to his lips. He'd looked up at the door's opening, but hadn't bothered to stand. Or perhaps unable was a more fitting description. He had beaten her here by a good hour and a half at least, as those were the differences in flight times and of course he hadn't had to figure out where to go.

She closed the door quietly behind her and took a hesitant step into the center of the main room. This wasn't a hotel room he'd secured for them—it was more of a suite. She'd been in enough of them at this point not to be in complete awe of the expansive luxury of it all, but she did have to marvel at how somber and dank he'd managed to make it appear. Almost as if he'd unleashed his current mood on it, transforming it to become and extension of himself.

"I'm sorry."

He took another drink, almost as if he'd not heard her. In fact, she might have repeated her barely audible words had he not been looking directly at her.

"What are you doing here?"

"Officially, I've had a family emergency and I'm taking a week off. Unofficially, I said really stupid things to the man I love, and I followed him to Paris."

"You shouldn't have come."

"I couldn't stay there."

"You walked away from me."

"I was walking away from the situation, not you."

"Same difference," he spat back at her, his tone more than enough to make the tears spring to her eyes.

"No, not the same difference. I wasn't ready to tell you about my dad."

"Maybe you weren't ready to be with me."

"Don't say that. You don't understand."

He finished the rest of the whiskey in his glass, and poured yet round into the now empty space. He looked up at her again, and shook his head.

"I'm sorry, where are my manners? Can I get you a drink?"

"Stop it, Tristan. Talk to me."

"You want to talk now? Fine, let's talk. Let's see, you think I don't understand having issues with your father?"

She began to feel very small, as he stood up in front of her now. She was determined to hold her ground and let him get his frustrations out, reminding herself of what her goal was in coming here.

"You're right. I have no idea what it's like to be given up on, sent away for others to deal with, and basically have my existence ignored except on holidays for the greater part of my life."

The hurt in his voice seeped through her skin, attacking her whole body at once. "Except I don't think that your father also makes you live a life that you don't agree with, and have to be very skilled at avoiding at all costs, now do you?"

She shook her head. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have assumed," she began, and he grabbed the mostly empty bottle of whiskey and hurled it into the trashcan, shattering the glass into the metal receptacle. She winced at the noise, but returned her eyes to him.

"And neither should I. I shouldn't have assumed that you'd been talking to your ex, should I? Because I should have believed that the woman I loved would tell me things like that."

"Tristan, I didn't tell you because it wasn't important, and I didn't really have time to tell you," she informed him. "I don't love him, I love you, which is what I told him!"

"Did you tell him things about your dad?"

"What?"

"Answer me."

"Yes," she admitted, looking down at her feet.

"And I'm the one that isn't trusting in this relationship," he scoffed, finishing the rest of the whiskey in his glass.

"We were together six months, Tristan. He was there the last time I had to deal with my dad, he saw what happened," she explained, trying to catch his gaze as he slammed his glass down on the table.

"Why won't you tell me things? Why can't you just let me into whatever it is that eats at you? Do you know how I feel when you wake up in a panic attack, and won't tell me what's wrong? Or when you can't seem to get it through your head that I am not going to just run off after the next girl that wants to sleep with me?"

"Since when did we have to put all our cards on the table, Tristan? Have you done that with me? I don't remember you telling me anything about your parents, other than the few jaded comments you offered to your grandfather."

"If you came here to fight, you can leave," he said suddenly, moving to the liquor cabinet, but she moved faster than him, blocking his destination.

"I'm not going to leave and let you drink yourself into a stupor."

He leaned into her, and she could tell he'd had too much already from the way the whiskey penetrated his breath.

"So, you're going to stay and watch as I do?"

"What do you want me to say?" she yelled. "Do you want me to say that I never loved Logan? Because I can't do that. I did love him, I just didn't love me when I was with him. We weren't right together, and I knew if I married him I'd end up as Mrs. Logan Huntzberger and nothing else," she confided.

"Huntzberger? You've got to be fucking kidding me," he shook his head at her words.

"What?"

"That's a hell of a lot of money you ran from," he informed her.

"I wasn't with him for his money," she allowed her voice to lower. "Most of the time I was with him in spite of it."

He nodded, and remained stoic as she stepped closer to him. "But with you, I love us together. Well, most of the time," she added for measure as she couldn't say she was a big fan of the feeling in the pit of her stomach when they were fighting. "I just assumed that we could put all our cards on the table as we needed to play them. Over here, with you, my dad and Logan didn't seem like issues. Maybe I was running away from all of that when I came over here, but honestly I can't say I'm sorry about that because coming here is how I found you again."

He closed his eyes at the feel of her hands on his face, as she couldn't stop herself from touching him anymore. "I'm sorry, too," his voice was barely audible, the softest whisper, and slightly slurred as the alcohol was much more prevalent than anger in his system now. She pressed her lips into his, tasting the whiskey on his lips and tongue as he pulled her closer. He lifted her up at the waist, bringing her properly up to his level to intensify the kiss. He groaned as she dug her fingertips into his back in efforts to hold onto him as he lifted her completely off the ground en route to the bed. She could feel wet heat of tears against her face as she pressed her cheek into his, not willing to open her eyes to check and see if they were hers, his, or both intermingled against her skin. His hands felt too good against her bare skin, making the drama of the past day melt away and dissolve into fuel for the fire that built so quickly between the pair.

Halfway into the mind altering dance that would put this blow up behind them, he slid off of her, his torso hanging off the bed. She groaned at the loss of pressure from his lips against her body, and propped herself up to inspect her skin where he'd just been lavishing his attention. A small red welt was forming as the burst blood vessels on her hip spread to the surface. He came back up onto the bed, and but didn't move up her body. He rested his elbows at either side of her hips, running his free hand over the mark he'd just made on her.

"I didn't get to give you your present," he smirked.

"Oh?" she breathed, still feeling the adrenaline that only he could start up coursing through her body as his bare torso rested between her uncovered legs. She wanted to tell him she would willingly go the rest of her life without presents from anyone if he would just continue on where he'd left off.

He placed a small, soft box on her skin, just above her belly button. She ran a hand through his hair before picking it up. It looked alarmingly like the one that Logan had presented her with just weeks before during his leave of sanity. This didn't cause her to want to scream and yell—in fact she was feeling pretty speechless. Upon prying the box open, she gasped as she saw a beautiful sapphire staring up at her with pride from its platinum setting. It seemed to gleam even in the dark of the room.

"It's beautiful."

"It reminded me of you."

"It's too much," she said as she fingered the ring still in its holder.

"No, it's not. It's not enough—nothing could be."

She looked up into his eyes, hearing nothing but sincerity. She knew his anger earlier had come from the passion he felt for her, and moments like this only proved it to her. Just as he knew that she got overwhelmed and acted out of fear. They'd both been to blame, they both knew it, and they were both over it. They could move past it. He took the ring out of its confines and picked up her right hand, sliding it over her knuckle.

"It's perfect."

"Tristan?"

"Yeah?"

"I want to tell you things. But I can't do it all at once. There's too much in my life that I'm not proud of, that affects me," she bit her lip as she looked back at the ring. "And when I'm with you, honestly a lot of it falls away. It's not on my mind, and I just want to focus on us."

He nodded, placing a kiss on her stomach as he slid up her body. One more kiss to her lips, and he cradled her face in his hands. "I get it. I feel the same way. You'll see a lot of things being here this week with my family, and none of it good, either. But you can tell me when things get bad. You have to; I can't deal with not knowing."

"I promise."

She kissed him again, taking up where they left off before he presented her gift to her. They gave more of themselves over to one another, whispering words of promise as they gave of their bodies.

XXXX

"What about your meeting with your supervisor this week?"

"It's rescheduled. What about your appointment, how did that go?" Rory asked, flopping down across the pillows on the large unmade bed.

"I got the first ultrasound picture!"

"Really? So, who does it look like?"

"It bears a remarkable resemblance to a kidney bean."

"So, Luke, then?"

"Haha. Are you sure it's fine that you took off to Paris? That meeting sounded important."

"Mom, I am allowed to take time off for family emergencies."

"Since when is Tristan family, is there some important detail you've left out of your story?"

"It's not an engagement ring. It's a birthday present. By the way, should anyone from school call, you've come down with something much more life-threatening than Luke's spawn."

"I never got a precious jewel for my birthday. Mom gave me pearls when I turned sixteen, but it felt more like a noose than anything else."

"Well, I still think it's too much, but it is incredible. But the best part is, we're good."

"Good. I like to hear that. So, what kind of reward does Dan get for finding the magic plane ticket?"

"My adoration and affection until I die?"

"Might want to run that past lover boy first."

"He's on board. It got me to Paris, and that is where we made up. He owes his adoration and affection as well."

"Where is Mr. Wonderful anyhow?"

"In the shower. Which reminds me, I should get going."

"Please hang up before you slip up and inform me that you are going to join him as soon as you hang up with me."

"Done."

Lorelai gave a shiver of disgust as she heard the dial tone in her ear. She put the phone down on the bed and made another face as she stood up and headed downstairs in search of anything to take her mind off of the mental images her daughter had imparted on her.


	23. Chapter 23

AN: Had most of this written yesterday, but it got way past my bed time, and the ending was being obstinate. I was getting ideas for the next chapter (so hopefully that will be up sooner than later, but we'll see) but not for the end of this one. Grr. Thank you all for reviewing—I can't believe I'm up over 600. That is definitely a first for me. I'm just glad you guys seem to be enjoying the story so much.

The next morning, Rory woke up slightly disoriented. She didn't even recognize the hand that lie right in front of her face, gripping the pillow that was also cushioning her head. She narrowed her eyes and wiggled her fingers, causing the hand in front of her to wave at her. It was definitely her hand, despite the elegant appendage that was affixed to the third finger.

"If I would have known you wouldn't be able to keep your eyes off of it, I would have had it permanently attached to my person," came Tristan's deep morning voice from the vicinity of her right ear.

"That sounds sort of painful," she giggled, turning enough for him to be able to catch her lips against his.

"I'm sure you could take the pain away," he murmured against her mouth as she turned her body to better angle into him.

"So, what's on the agenda for today?" she asked, closing her eyes as his hands slid back underneath the covers.

"I have to meet my parents for a late lunch—they were informed of my early arrival by the concierge, and I got a note with dinner last night to meet them."

"You sound so thrilled. Aren't you here to see your parents?"

He sighed and leaned back against the pillows. "I'm here on business," he clarified. "If you want, you can go shopping while I'm gone."

Her eyes lit up at the very thought. Shopping in Paris is what every little girl dreams of, especially little girls who watch too many movies. "I shouldn't though. Window shopping makes me depressed."

"So go in," he said, as if it were the obvious solution to her qualms.

"If I go in, I'll be tempted to whip out the old credit card, and let me tell you, it won't survive a whirl through Paris. I'm not even sure it could survive a mini-mart run for a Moon Pie and a soda."

"So take mine," he kissed the top of her head.

She looked up at him, reveling in the blithe tone he'd used in his monumental suggestion. When she didn't say anything for an extended beat, he refocused his gaze from out the window to her face.

"You okay?"

"I can't take your credit cards," she shook her head, sitting up next to him.

"Why not?"

"Because they're yours."

"It's money—no boutique in Paris is going to turn down my money."

"I'm turning down your money," she informed him plaintively.

"Why?" he yawned, not understanding her denial of his offer.

"Because it's not mine to take."

"You need something to do, and you like to shop, correct?"

"Yes, but that isn't the issue here."

"Why does this have to be an issue?" he asked, now fully awake.

"It's not. I'm just not comfortable with the idea, is all."

"What's wrong with me wanting you to have a good time?"

"Why don't I just join you at your lunch?"

"That is not going to help in your having a good time," he scoffed knowingly.

"Fine, I'll find something else to do. It's Paris, I'll go to a museum."

After the night before and her increasingly strained tone during this morning conversation, he decided to let the issue drop. They couldn't keep going in the cycle they'd been in, getting closer only to fall into a power struggle of old issues that weighed on each of them. If she didn't want the damn cards, then fine.

"There's no lack of those here. You want to take my driver? I'm just meeting my parents down the way, I won't need it. It's already paid for, if I use it or not," he said, hoping to get her to agree to take his help and make this a non-discussion.

"If you're sure you won't need it."

"I'm positive. Does your mom know you're here?" he asked suddenly.

"Yeah, I called her last night, after," she paused before continuing, "She knows I'm here."

"Good. Wouldn't want the school to call and her to give you up," he smiled at her. "I still can't believe you skipped out on school for me."

"This was more important. I really am sorry," she looked into his eyes, realizing that he'd extinguished an argument just moments before, even before it got fanned into a real fire. "I really am going to work on the trust thing."

"Glad to hear it. Now, scoot, I have to get ready."

She kissed him one more time before wrapping the sheet around her body and sliding out of bed to move toward the shower.

"Hey, Rory?"

She stopped and half turned, looking at him with thoroughly mussed hair from a night of being encapsulated in his arms.

"Yeah?"

"Wherever you go, don't linger too long. I'd like to take you out on the town tonight, if that's okay."

She gave a true smile. "Sounds perfect," she nodded, and turned back, disappearing into the master bath to start her day.

XXXX

"Are we done here?" Tristan asked, checking his watch one more time.

"What, do you have a hot date to get to?" his father asked, clearly uninterested.

"If you must know, yes," Tristan replied, rolling his eyes at his father.

"I thought Janlan said you were seeing the Gilmore girl," his mother said, swirling her drink in her hand before raising it back up to her lips.

"You say that as if it's a concern to his having a date tonight," Kieran Dugrey said, matching Tristan's prior tone.

"Don't start," Jara warned.

"Her name is Rory, and that is whom I'm meeting later," Tristan spoke up, over his parents' side conversation.

"She's in Paris as well?" Jara's interest was peaked.

"She's staying with me," he begrudgingly admitted.

"She came to Paris with you?" his father seemed interested in something he was saying for the first time, well, ever, if he thought about it.

"Yes," Tristan said, checking his watch again.

"You're honestly serious about this girl?" he sat up on the edge of his seat, eyeing his son.

"Not that it's your concern, but yes, I am," he said, meeting his father's eyes.

"Well, this changes everything. You'll bring her to dinner tomorrow night, after the meeting."

"Like hell I will," Tristan laughed before taking the last drink out of his glass.

"Tristan, be reasonable," his mother chastised.

"I'm not bringing her to dinner. There is no reason for it."

"You brought her along to Paris, and you aren't going to formally introduce us?"

"That's right. Now if you'll excuse me," he stood up, and his father matched his actions.

"This isn't up for debate, son. We'll see the two of you for dinner at 7:30 tomorrow night. That should give you plenty of time to change after the meeting."

"You're right about one thing, Father," he said the last word rather scathingly. "This isn't up for debate. I'm here because you gave me no choice in the matter, but I'm not obligated to you socially. I'll see you at the meeting, tomorrow," he added, nodding to his mother before leaving the restaurant and his parents.

XXXX

He was back in the hotel suite long before Rory came bursting into the room. Her mood was clearly elevated, having spent the majority of the afternoon taking in the beauty of the exhibits at the Louvre. Her smile was almost contagious, but he was still working the unpleasant encounter with his parents out of his system.

"You're back," she said happily, moving to hug him.

"I'm back. You hungry?"

"I could eat," she kissed him. "You okay?"

"I'm good now. How was your day?"

She smiled, instantly thinking of her afternoon. "It was amazing. I mean, I've been to Paris twice before, and I even went to the Louvre with Grandma, but it's so big, you'd need a week or something to go through the whole thing. Do you know how many exhibits they have there? It's staggering to think about, really," she rambled, stopping only when his amusement grew to a visible point.

"I'm babbling," she said softly, blushing slightly.

"You're cute when you babble," he kissed the tip of her nose.

"Let's go, and you can tell me about your day," she suggested, not liking to be the center of attention.

"Where would you like to go?" he asked, not wanting to talk about his day.

"I don't know. It's still sort of early, we could roam about for a while, get some coffee in a real Parisian café," she suggested.

"You've been to Paris and not stopped in a street café?" he asked disbelievingly.

"Of course I have, but you know what they say. When in Paris, do as the Parisians do."

"Right. Let's go, Madame," he shook his head, unable to stop smiling at her.

"I can't go out in this," she stopped, feigning shock as she held her hands to her torso.

"Weren't you just out in that?" he asked, scanning her body for effect. "You look great."

"Yes, but that's the problem. I've already been seen in Paris in this outfit. I have to change."

"How many changes of clothes did you bring?" he asked, lifting up the top of her suitcase and peering inside. She smacked his hand away, causing it to shut.

"Didn't your mother ever tell you not to look in a lady's things?"

"My parents weren't big on rules," he smirked.

"That," she pointed at him, "explains so much."

"Funny. Go change, I'll make reservations."

"Ooh, where at?"

"Surprises, Mary. Most people like them."

"I'm not most people," she said, picking up her suitcase and disappearing into the bathroom to change. Evidently he wasn't allowed near the process of choosing an outfit. He smiled at the thought of her dressing for an evening out in Paris with him. Perhaps it was the City of Love, as cheesy as it sounded to him.

XXXX

She was warm from his arms, the champagne, and the feeling that was perpetually swelling up inside of her whenever she was in such proximity to this man that was leading her around the dance floor on the dinner boat. She had no idea how they ended up floating down the Seine, nor did she have a desire to ever leave it. She felt the pad of his thumb drag across the inside of her palm before coming back to rest in its proper place on her hand. She nuzzled her head against his shoulder, not hiding her smile at all. She wanted all of Paris to see how happy she was.

"I think we should stay here forever," she mused, to which he agreed by placing his lips against her temple.

"Would you?" she continued her whimsical tangent.

"In a heartbeat, if I thought you were serious."

"Why wouldn't I be? What could be better than this?" she lifted her head to look up lazily into his eyes.

"You would give up school, a future career, and your family to stay in Paris with me?"

"They have schools here, and jobs—and Mom is just dying to come to Paris again. I could be her excuse."

"You have this all planned out, huh?"

"Pretty much. I didn't think you'd mind," she sighed, resting her head back on his shoulder for a moment, until he spoke again.

He nodded. "Have you given anymore thought as to what is really going to happen?"

He could see she had, just by the cloud that moved over her eyes, pushing her fantasy out of her mind. "Yeah."

He nodded, not sure what her single word answer meant. "Okay. Care to share your thoughts?"

"Now?"

"No time like the present."

She took a breath, and moved closer into his arms. He responded by warmly tightening his grip on her body. "Well, at first I thought maybe it would be better if we just waited to see what happened. Not make any promises, you know?"

He nodded hollowly, not liking her brilliant idea. He knew well why she would come up with such a plan, especially if she believed that he thought her capable of going back to Logan. Why should she trust him if he didn't trust her?

"But after, well, everything," she paused again, clearly not liking being the first to admit her most intimate of feelings, "I'm thinking maybe we could talk about finding a way to be closer."

"It's about time you said that," he said with relief. "I've been wanting to talk to you about it. I was going to last night, but I didn't exactly get the chance."

"Oh."

"I know the last time we talked about it, it got strained," he admitted. "But there are things in my life that I'm willing to give up, and others I'm not."

She nodded, feeling almost lightheaded as she awaited his deeper explanation.

"You're not one of those things I'm willing to let go."

She smiled, tears being brought to her eyes. After the strain of the heightened emotions they'd put each other through the last couple of days, she couldn't have blamed him for rethinking everything they'd been through up to this point. She wasn't the most secure of investments, with her penchant to run. He knew all of her secrets now, or at least the tips of the icebergs that lay in her depths, and he wasn't going anywhere.

"Me either," she breathed, closing her eyes as he kissed her; both oblivious to the stars above them or the river below them. Her earlier conversation hadn't been just a thought that flitted in and out of her mind. Being alone in this city with him made her feel that she could be wherever he was and that would be enough for her. It would be true and real. No one else had ever made her feel that way. She'd felt the beginnings of it in England, but thought it was the whole experience of being abroad, but this was turning out to be much more than she'd bargained for. And she had every intention to stay with him now.


	24. Chapter 24

AN: Yes, I'm back. Hopefully the updating can get back to normal, or at least there won't be a huge gap again for a while. Most of you have been so very patient, and I thank you. I hope you enjoy this new installment.

Tristan had been gone for just over a half an hour, and Rory was debating over going out on her own or staying in to relax. They'd been out til all hours of the night last night. New York is known as the city that never sleeps, but Paris by night was otherworldly. The whole city becomes illuminated and swirls with people. She'd risen when he had, after just five hours of rest, and watched him as he moved about sullenly. She hesitated to ask what was wrong, figuring his displeasure of seeing his parents was hard for him to mask, as they'd had a magical evening. He'd promised her that she would witness things of this nature on this trip, and this was probably to what he was referring.

Just before he left, he leaned down to kiss her cheek, promising he'd be back as soon as he could. She gave her best smile, and promised to be there upon his return. She should probably just stay put; sightseeing would be difficult anyhow, since she felt like lead weights were attached to her eyelids. Perhaps a nap might not be the worst course of action. She smiled as she remembered him saying how best he'd like to find her upon his return. His words had caused her to blush, but she had to admit he had a talent for exciting her.

The key turned in the door, stopping her in her thoughts. She smiled as she continued to look out the window, anticipating his arms wrapping around her in mere moments.

"That was quick," she mused, when at first he didn't speak.

"Rory, I presume?"

Rory whipped around at the stranger's voice. Her eyes widened even more at the slightly familiar looking woman, though she still couldn't place her. Perhaps she reminded her of Shira Huntzberger—it was obvious this was a pampered, slightly jaded woman.

"Yes?"

The strange woman smiled and let the door close behind her. "I'm Jara Dugrey. Tristan's mother."

Rory took the woman's outstretched hand and shook it politely. "Nice to meet you," she said warily. This meeting felt strange. Tristan would have told her if he'd arranged for his mother to come by. He kept saying he had a business meeting with his parents, which she took to mean both his mother and father.

"Would you care to join me for brunch?"

Rory shook her head. "I'm waiting for Tristan."

"He'll be a while, dear. I'll wait downstairs while you get, dressed," she paused before saying the last word, causing Rory to draw her robe tighter around her body. As soon as Jara took leave of the suite, Rory pulled out her cell phone and dialed Tristan's number. It went directly to his voicemail, and she swore under her breath. His phone was off. She caught sight of herself in the mirror and realized she better change. Jara had a key and probably wasn't going to wait long.

XXXX

"So, you must be wondering what this is all about," Jara said, smiling as she lit up a cigarette. The waiter had just taken their orders, and they were sitting at an outdoor café near the hotel.

"I'm intrigued, yes. I thought Tristan was meeting you both for some business meeting."

"Ah, yes. The business of family," Jara exhaled slowly. "I'm not generally involved in these meetings. Unleashed to my own means. Kieran thinks I'm purchasing a new fall line," she said bitterly.

Rory sipped her coffee, wishing more than anything that Tristan would call her phone inquiring as to her whereabouts. Surely his knowledge of this event would put a swift end to it. Jara snuffed out the last of her cigarette, and eyed Rory carefully.

"What has Tristan told you about his father and me?"

"Not much. Just that he had to meet you in Paris this week."

"And he invited you along?"

"Yes."

"I have to admit, his father and I were quite surprised. Tristan's never been much for relationships."

"I know."

Jara smiled. "Do you?"

"I've known him for years."

"I see. Well, then you probably have an inkling that Tristan and Kieran aren't what you'd call close."

Rory nodded, giving up the ghost. No matter what this woman wanted to tell her, she wished she'd get it over with so she could get back to the room. The longer she sat here, the more she felt odd about the entire situation.

"I've surmised so much."

"And I know you've met Janlan."

"He's a lovely man."

"He is. And he has a very high opinion of you."

Rory smiled. "We spent some time with him at the country house."

"I'm not here to run you away from Tristan, or scare you, dear. Am I correct in assuming you're serious about my son?"

Raising an eyebrow, she nodded. "I am."

Jara smiled. "Good. I want you to know what is going on at this meeting."

"What makes you think I don't know already?"

"Tristan hates what is going on. He's not one to discuss family matters with anyone, except Janlan."

Rory nodded, and sat back in her chair. Jara pulled out her pack of cigarettes and held it out to Rory, in offering. Rory shook her head, and the woman pulled one out for herself and lit it before continuing.

"Tristan doesn't agree with how Kieran does business. His inheritance is contingent on his joining the family firm upon graduation from university. He'd interned for the company the summer before his junior year of high school, that's when this all started.When Tristan got sent off to military school, it was the last straw, for both of them. Tristan had been showing his disproval of his father's dealings, but before breaking into that safe, Kieran had assumed Tristan would come around to his way of thinking eventually. Tristan was doing his best to show his defiance. They had a lot of knock down, drag out fights—and not all verbal either, mind you. Soon after Kieran put the contingency into act."

Rory sat, stunned at the news. No wonder he was so bitter about his father keeping tabs on him. She wasn't quite sure what Kieran did that Tristan didn't approve of, other than the family business was law.

"How do I factor into this, exactly?"

Jara smiled. "He brought you. And Kieran knows. He wanted the two of you to come to dinner with us tonight."

"Tristan didn't mention it."

"Tristan refused the invitation."

Rory sat back as the waiter delivered their food, not sure what to say next. Was Jara going to ask her to get Tristan to agree to dinner? There was no way it would even work, even if she wanted to. And she definitely didn't want to.

"I don't see why you've told me all of this."

"You have influence with Tristan. You can help him see reason."

"Reason?"

"I have a feeling that he's going to push it too far."

"Too far?" she repeated her words again, trying to process all of this.

Jara nodded, and looked down at her untouched plate. She took a last drag off her cigarette and put it next to the other in the ashtray.

"I don't want to lose my son."

"I'm sorry. I don't understand."

"Tristan could very well back out of the agreement—even if it means walking away from the money. God knows there are other means for him, he's not dumb. He's my only son, and I can't say that I like abiding by my husband, but I don't have any other options."

Rory frowned, watching as the woman crumbled in front of her very eyes. A wave of sympathy washed over her, finally understanding her covert means. She didn't have ulterior motives—at least not the kind that she'd been beginning to suspect.

"I'm sorry," Rory offered.

"Perhaps you can make him see reason?"

"I can't do anything; I'm not involved in this."

"Kieran won't stop at this. Tristan walking away isn't an option, at least not one he'll take lightly. He'll pull you into this."

"I think I should go now, I promised I'd be there, waiting for him."

Jara nodded, and stood as Rory did. "Don't mention this to him. I understand your hesitation on helping me, but please, consider what I've said. All of it."

Rory said nothing, only nodded before taking leave of the woman and walking quickly back to the safety of the hotel. Only with the ease that people obtained keys to their room, she wasn't sure how safe she was.

XXXX

Tristan came into the room an hour after she returned, tie undone and jacket open. He looked completely exhausted, and she wasn't faring much better. She'd replayed Jara's conversation over and over in her head, and now seeing him she felt like she might explode without knowing what had happened at his meeting one second longer. She sat in the middle of the bed on her knees, watching him expectantly.

"That's not quite how I was hoping you'd greet me," he said, crawling onto the bed next to her. "Close, though."

She shied a little, looking down at the closing space between them. "How was your meeting?"

He shrugged. "It's over. That's the important thing," he said, brushing off the topic as he leaned in to kiss her. She closed her eyes, kissing him back as she willed her conscience to slip into oblivion with the rest of her body. He ran a hand up the side of her body, lightly skimming his knuckles over her clothes as he leaned her back. She opened her eyes as his lips left hers, and she couldn't take the nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach. She had to tell him.

"Tristan," she breathed.

"Shh," he instructed between kisses, and she felt his warm hands uncover her stomach.

"Please, I need to tell you something," she said, pulling her shirt back down and blocking his path with her hands.

He looked up at her for a moment, into her troubled eyes. She bit her lip and diverted her gaze for a moment. She'd sworn she saw recognition sweep over his face.

"Did something happen while I was gone?"

She nodded. "What happened at your meeting?"

"Rory, tell me what's wrong."

"Nothing, maybe, I don't know. Why did you meet your father?"

He sighed. "It's not important."

"Tristan. You had to fly to Paris for a week, during a semester abroad."

"My father doesn't really care about disrupting my schedule, what can I say?"

"Your mother came to see me today."

He sat up immediately, the color draining from his face. "What?"

"You heard me."

"What did she say to you?"

Rory sighed, and put her hand over his. "She seemed, concerned. About you."

"What did she want?" he asked, his tone firmer.

"She let herself in, and then she took me to brunch. She wanted me to encourage you to reach some sort of truce, with your dad. She said she didn't want to lose you, and that if I didn't help them, your dad would probably pull me into this anyhow."

"Unbelievable. I should have known," he said, now standing, beginning to pace by the bed.

"Tristan, what is going on?"

"I didn't want to drag you into all of this. I'm done with this, I told him today. What he does is no longer of concern to me, and you certainly don't need to be dragged into it. I will make sure of that," he said.

"Into what? You've been talking to me about letting you in and telling you what is going on, why can't you do the same for me?"

"Because what he's doing is illegal, Rory," he spat out. "I just want out of the obligation of working with him when I'm out of school. I've been trying to put it off, coming to England defers my graduation date, and it made him mad. I've been figuring out the best way to do this, with my grandfather, and I told him today I'm done. He's probably afraid I'll use my knowledge to uncover his dealings, but honestly I just wanted out before I could be implicated in the whole mess."

"Your mother," she began, still feeling sympathy for the woman.

"My mother will stand by my father, no matter what. If I cut ties with him, it means cutting ties with her."

"But, Tristan," she sat in awe, unable to imagine completely cutting either of her parents out of her life forever.

"It's over. In fact, I'm done here now, so we can return to England whenever you want."

"Oh."

"I'm sorry she came to you. She shouldn't have. When he found out I was seeing you, he assumed I might transfer, putting my graduation date off ever further, and which is why he wanted to have dinner with us tonight, and probably the main reason my mother came to see you today. I should have anticipated all of this better; this will be the last you have to deal with my parents," he said, his anger still flowing through his voice, though his actions were much softer as he came next to her again and pulled her into his arms. She let him hold her for a moment, her mind swimming with the new information she'd received today.

"It's okay," she said, slipping her own arms around to hold him as well. "This is over now, right?"

He kissed the top of her head. "Sort of. He'll make attempts to change my mind, but I told him I'm out. I'm free to do as I please. Including finding my own source of income."

"What about your grandfather?" she asked, still filled with so many questions.

"I've got money, Rory, I don't need my father's," he answered, figuring she was worried for his altered financial situation.

"It wouldn't matter to me, you know."

He looked into her eyes and smiled. "What?"

"If you didn't have any money. At all. It wouldn't matter to me."

He nodded. "So you're saying I'm not winning you over with Parisian suites and sapphires?"

"Nope."

"Great," he groaned.

"You're winning me over, period."

He held her gaze, feeling the depth of her words as they broke over him. He moved against her with raw emotion, not taking care in gentle caresses or soft kisses. He was finding that he expressed love as he did anger; fiercely and without caution. Holding it back wasn't an option, and all he could think of was how amazing this woman in his arms, moving underneath him, truly was. She wasn't with him for 'reasons.' She was with him because she needed him the same way he craved her.

He just hoped she would still feel the same way after this whole mess got straightened out. It was true that he'd thrown his father's threats into his face today, but he knew this was by no means over. Kieran Dugrey was not going to take this lying down; he was too afraid that his tracks would be uncovered. But one thing was for certain—he was going to have to work harder to keep Rory out of it. Now he had more to consider than just his own personal happiness. He wanted to get her back to their isolated bubble of school and London.


	25. Chapter 25

AN: Happy Memorial Day, everyone! Thank you to each and every reviewer who's been so diligent in encouraging this story! I hope you enjoy this new one. EDIT--had this done on Memorial Day, but as you probably know, the site has been down a bit. Relief is here!

Rory sat in her supervisor's office, awaiting his no doubt frantic entrance. He was always on the move, never slowing down from the time he arrived to the time he left—though in all honesty, Rory had never seen either occurrence. He was there far before the interns arrived and left (presumably) far later. She'd often wondered if he ever left the building, in fact. She had a professor back at Yale who was rumored to sleep in his office, as his home life wasn't the best. Supposedly he didn't get along with his wife, and had begun telling her years ago he had to work late, staying later and later, and that led to him taking over the couch in his office as a now near-permanent residence.

Her train of derailed thought was snapped back to the realities of life as he at last came sweeping into the room, the door closing shut loudly behind him. She gave a small jump at the sudden movement, but smiled back at him as he took a seat on the corner of the desk directly in front of her.

"Ah, Ms. Gilmore. How is the home situation? Everything in order?"

She had to think a moment. Was everything in order? The whole Paris trip had been so surreal, and Tristan hadn't said another word about his parents since their discussion after his meeting. They'd spent one more evening in Paris, alone, before returning back to London. He'd made a few hushed phone calls, she believed to his grandfather, but he had not discussed anything further with her on the topic. But the two of them, they were fine. At least, so she hoped.

"Yes, thank you."

"Good. I'm glad to have you back."

"Thank you Mr. Hall," she smiled.

"Call me Colin," he reminded her, as he'd instructed all the interns to do on the first day, despite his use of their formal names. "Tell me, do you like working here?"

Rory's eyes widened a bit in surprise. It wasn't a question she'd thought she'd be asked. The interns were thrown projects with the barking instruction of a time and a place for them to be returned to someone with a title and a salary. Their opinions weren't a normal consideration.

"Of course, I love it."

Colin smiled. "Good. I must say, you've been noticed around the office. I got all kinds of complaints of your absence. Bevins couldn't find anything the entire time."

Rory tried to hide her pleasure, though it was one of the best compliments she'd ever received. It definitely didn't suck to have your work appreciated. "I thought it was weird that he hugged me when he got in this afternoon," she shared.

Colin laughed. "You add to this office. I was wondering what you'd think to being given a bit more responsibility?"

"That sounds amazing," she nodded fervently.

"It wouldn't be much, you'd be in the research department to start out with, I know you still have classes until the end of the semester, but after that," he rambled.

"I'm sorry, but did you say after that?"

"Well, I suppose you might want to go home for the Christmas holiday, but what I wanted to propose to you was the possibility of your coming back. It would technically be another internship, but it'd be paid and you could also earn some journalism credit for school. I'm sure you'd have time to squeeze in a couple of other courses as well, if you like."

"Oh, wow," she said, clearly floored by the offer.

"Now, I understand that this is perhaps a big decision. Take some time. Think about it and get back to me by a week from Friday. Fair enough?"

Rory nodded and stood, feeling as if she should hug this man, but instead she stuck out her hand in thanks. He smiled back and shook her hand, already now on his way back out to put out yet another editorial fire.

"Excellent. Now, back to work. And let me know if Bevins hugs you again. No one should have to put up with that behavior," he joked before he disappeared out of the office.

XXXX

"You okay?" Dan asked, munching on a Pop tart. Rory had been chewing on the eraser end of a pencil while Dan had been filling her in on the soap opera that was his love life.

"Hmm?" she said, her eyes widening as she looked up at him. She looked almost surprised to see him sitting on the foot of her bed, but shook her head to clear her thoughts. "Yeah. I'm sorry. What were you saying?"

"Rory, come on. My stories don't get any better than this."

She let out a long sigh, and grabbed a Smores Pop tart off the plate, and tore a piece off of the edge of it. "I'm sorry. I just have a lot on my mind."

"Rory—you've got my salaciously delicious story, and your mother sent you Smores Pop tarts. What could be better or more important?" he teased.

"Promise you won't say anything?" her tone took on a much more serious tone than he'd expected. He set his pastry back down on the plate between them and nodded, giving her his full attention.

"I promise."

She took a deep breath. "Well, you know that I went to Paris, and we made up," she said slowly.

"I gathered from the obnoxiously lethal precious jewel on your finger there," he referred to her ring.

She glanced down at it, as if she'd forgotten it was there. "Yeah. Well, after that, he went to meet his father, and his mother showed up at our hotel room to talk to me, to get me to make Tristan see reason and to talk him into going into business with his father. I told Tristan about it later, and he explained that his dad is doing some potentially illegal stuff—he didn't go into detail, but he did say he was completely out of it, he basically cut himself out of his parents' lives."

"Wow. That's, wow," Dan said, picking his Pop tart back up and taking a bite while he continued to take in what she'd said. "What happened after that?"

Rory shook her head and shrugged her shoulders. "Nothing. I think he's been talking to his grandfather, but it's like it never happened. He's . . . fine."

"That's strange."

"Yeah. I mean, it's good that he gets away from all that, right?"

"Sounds like it," Dan agreed. "Is that all that's bugging you?"

"Sort of. I can't really talk about the other thing. I just want to be there for him, but he doesn't seem to need me."

"That's not true. In fact, he should be here any second to kick me out so he can spend the night in your room," Dan said knowingly.

"I don't mean like that. I don't know," she said, shaking her head again. "So, Elisa did or didn't have a boyfriend?" she asked, turning the conversation back to Dan.

A wide grin spread over his face. "She did. He's back in Montana, but she called him last week and broke it off. She said she hadn't meant to get involved over here, but she said by the time she realized it was happening, it was too late. Then she sort of freaked out when she ran into her friends, because they know him too," he explained.

"So, you two are blissfully happy now, all out in the open and everything?" Rory asked, scrunching her nose up.

"We are. Oh, and do me a favor?"

Rory nodded. "Anything, after all, I do owe you big for finding that plane ticket."

"Hide your ring when Elisa's around. I don't want her thinking all men have that kind of spending cash."

Rory smiled. "Of course."

A knock came to her open door, and they both looked up see Tristan leaning in the doorway. "Can I cut in?"

"I guess. She's out of Pop tarts anyhow," Dan shrugged, causing Rory to swat his leg.

"Nice to know my friends enjoy spending time with me because of my witty conversation skills," she pouted.

"Ah, you know I care about you. If I didn't, I'd stay and make it impossible for you and him to suck face," he smirked as he made his way to stand next to Tristan.

"Your staying wouldn't impede that activity," Tristan informed him.

"Right. See you two later," Dan said, taking his leave of the room and shutting the door without being asked. He'd told them once before he did that for the greater good of the floor. He said if he left it open, they'd have to charge for the show, and the University didn't condone such money-making activities on school grounds.

Tristan moved to sit next to Rory on the bed, and slipped an arm around her shoulders. He kissed the top of her head before resting his cheek against it. She could tell he was tired when he appeared in her door frame, but had said nothing about it. She knew he hadn't slept last night.

"How was your day?" he asked.

"Oh, fine. You know, same old, same old," she said, not willing to get into the conversation she'd had with Colin at the moment. She wasn't even sure she was considering this yet—there was no need to get him into it with all the other things he had going.

"I'm so beat."

"You look tired," she said, pulling back to run two fingers down his face. She frowned when he shut his eyes and pulled her against his chest after he repositioned himself so that he was leaning back against her headboard.

"I am. I have that test on British Parliamentary Procedures tomorrow," he yawned.

"Want me to quiz you?" she offered, not feeling the least bit tired. Ever since Colin had made her the offer, the very thought of it increased her heart rate and made her feel like she'd had a triple shot espresso.

"No, I want to sleep. For a very long time," he protested.

"Tristan," she started, but hesitated for a moment, unsure of how she wanted to continue. Part of her wanted to share her news with him, but the other half of her didn't want to burden him with it. "Is everything else okay?"

"Yeah."

"Have you been talking with your grandfather?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

"So, he knows about what happened in Paris."

"We don't have to talk about this."

"We should, don't you think?"

He gave a sigh, and opened his eyes again. "Okay. He knows what my parents did. He said he'd back me in whatever I needed. I've always spent my time in Hartford with him anyhow, they've never really been in my life much," he explained. "Oh, and he wants to see us both over Christmas."

She nodded. "Of course."

"Anything else you'd like to know?"

"No," she said quickly. "Well, I mean, have they contacted you at all?"

"My parents? No. They won't, not for a while. I know how this goes," he assured her. "Don't worry about it. Honestly. They're nothing if not predictable."

She nodded, "And you're okay?"

He looked into her eyes, knowing she was worried about him after what had happened. It surely would be a different case for her if she'd cut off ties to her parents. "I'm fine, believe me. I've dreamed of this day," he said sincerely. "Besides, I'm not without family. I have my grandfather."

"And me," she said, sitting up and swinging her leg over to the side of his body, to straddle his lap. "Don't forget that."

He leaned up to meet her lips brashly, letting her know that her words were burned into his brain. He slid his hands over her back, holding her closer against him, coaxing her in toward him.

"I thought you were tired," she murmured against his mouth.

"Shh," he quieted her, reminding her of her promise and bringing her into the heat of the moment.

XXXX

"Okay, Mopey, you're going to tell me what's wrong in the next thirty seconds, or I'm sending the National Guard over to bring you home."

"I don't think the National Guard would dispatch people to come and bring me home because you say so."

"Uh, Stars Hollow's National Guard would come in a second at my command."

"Stars Hollow doesn't have a National Guard Armory."

"Oh contraire, my dear girl. We do now."

"Oh no. Don't say it."

"Kirk."

"I told you not to say it."

"9, 8, 7," she counted down.

"Fine. I might have gotten an offer from the BBC to do another internship there next semester."

"They want you to stay in London to do another unpaid internship?"

"No, this would be paid, and I'd get journalism credits."

"Wow, are you kidding?"

"No. I have until next Friday to give my supervisor an answer. He said I was indispensable and he wanted to give me more responsibility."

"That's amazing! I want to throw you a party—that's it, we'll have a big party to celebrate, a Welcome Back/Christmas/Bon Voyage Again/Congratulations Party. Give me Tristan's number so I can coordinate my big fancy plans behind your back!"

"No, Mom, you aren't calling Tristan," she said definitively.

"I promise not to do the overprotective mom bit. I got that out of my system with Logan, I swear. I just want to plan the perfect shin-dig. Besides, he might throw a little money into this, we can get the good party favors this time around," she added.

"No, Mom, I don't want him to know about this yet."

"He doesn't know? How is that possible? Wasn't your meeting yesterday?"

"Yes."

"Rory, what's up? I don't get it."

"I just—he's dealing with all the stuff with his parents, and I might not do it," she explained.

"What? You might not do it? Why?"

"Well, I mean, I haven't even thought about it. I would have to be away from Yale, only taking two courses, that will put my graduation off possibly, and Tristan and I have been talking about how to be together when we get back," she gave her mother all the reasons she might not take the opportunity.

"You aren't serious. Rory, this would be a huge step up for your career, for your options once you graduate, right?"

"Well, yes, but," she began, but her mother's good sense cut her off.

"And do you really think that taking this means that it's over with Tristan?"

"Well, no, maybe not," she said.

"I mean, if he wouldn't support you, that sounds like Logan, not what you've told me of Tristan."

"Mom, I just don't want to think about this right now, okay? I want to let it sit for a couple of days, let it mull."

"Just promise me you'll actually give this the full consideration it deserves. Your life will be waiting here in June just the same as it would be in December."

"I know. I will."

"Good," Lorelai paused. "I wasn't kidding about Kirk by the way."

Rory giggled. "What else is happening?" she asked, reveling in losing herself in her mother's stories from home. She did miss the small town life, so used to being able to visit whenever she wanted: whether school was going well or not, whether her love life was going well or not. Home was always a comfort. For now she'd have to settle for her mother's voice and the letters that continued to pour in from likely and unlikely sources from her small town life to fill that particular void.


	26. Chapter 26

AN: I realize it's been like a week or whatever. In my defense, I wrote two one-shots, one of which being my Trory Spring Exchange Fic, which will be up for display sometime near the end of this month at the Seasonal Passions site. Check in there soon as the fics should be rolling in soon! Back to this story, thanks to all who've been reviewing, as always I hope you enjoy this new installment.

Rory sat at the huge dining table across from Tristan, and both were being closely watched by his grandfather. The room was mostly silent, interspersed with Janlan's attempts to coax more conversation out of the younger couple. They'd been quiet since their arrival just an hour before, and he wondered exactly what was going on between them. He knew very well that Rory had been in Paris during Tristan's confrontation with his father—and that they'd had some sort of disagreement before their departure for Paris as well. But when last he spoke with his grandson, he said that everything had been cleared up. The sullen, tight-lipped people in front of him didn't give off airs of everything being fine.

"So, Rory, how is your internship going?"

"Oh, fine."

"What do they have you doing?" Janlan attempted to continue to probe her for information, to at least get them through the main course without this painful lull in conversation.

"Well, actually, my supervisor has me doing more research and less grunt work," she admitted, putting her utensils across her plate to signify her satiation.

"When did this happen?" Tristan suddenly looked up at her, and Janlan also perked up at the interest his grandson took. Perhaps now something could get accomplished.

Rory gave him a deer caught in headlights look. "Uh, just a couple of days ago."

"You had your meeting?" he continued.

"Yes."

"Meeting?" Janlan asked.

"Just with my supervisor, you know, a performance review. It's not a big deal," she assured them both.

"You were freaking out about it before, and now it's no big deal?" Tristan inquired.

"Can we talk about something else?" she requested, clearly uncomfortable with all eyes on her.

Janlan cleared his throat and attempted to think of anything else to talk about. He saw his grandson's inability to take his eyes off of Rory and how Rory seemed unwilling to meet Tristan's gaze. He needed to divide and conquer.

"Well, I don't know about the two of you, but I'm not feeling up for dessert tonight. I think I'll take a walk. Rory, would you care to join me?" he asked, standing up to help Rory out of her seat, ever the true gentleman.

"Actually, I was hoping to speak with Rory," Tristan interrupted, also standing up.

"Well, then you should have made your claims sooner, son," he said with authority. "Rory?"

"Of course," she nodded, tossing a look of uncertainty to Tristan. She'd promised herself—and her mother, who wouldn't let the topic drop—that she would talk to Tristan about Mr. Hall's offer this weekend. She couldn't make the decision without at least mentioning the possibility to him, and she only had one more week in which to decide.

Once they got outside, Rory fell into step silently with Janlan as he headed out toward the gardens. He allowed her a moment of quiet, getting her away from the house and any prying ears.

"So, care to tell me exactly what was going on in there?"

She shuffled her feet as she kept to the slower pace that Janlan had set. "What do you mean?"

"Is this about Paris?"

She shook her head and smiled sadly. "No, it's just—it's nothing. Just something he and I need to discuss."

"I see. He's unaware of whatever is happening?"

Rory nodded. "For now."

Janlan steered her elbow to turn down yet another pathway, and let her take he lead down the narrow-most part. "Well, in that case, I wanted to make sure you were okay with the family issues you stumbled upon in Paris."

"I'm fine. Tristan explained everything to me."

"I'm sure he did," he paused. "But I know his father much better than he does. I'm going to do my best to keep the two of you out of Kieran's line of fire. He's not taking this lightly, but mainly right now it's his lawyers speaking with mine. He's trying to prove that Tristan signed some loyalty contract to his company, but the bottom line is that anything Tristan would have signed can be proved to have happened when he was a minor and under supervision of his parents—thus negating the whole deal. Tristan is going to be free to work for me or whomever he chooses in the future. I have a feeling the future is on his mind a great deal lately."

Janlan's double meaning wasn't lost on Rory, and she blushed as she could feel his gaze focus in on her. It was all she'd been thinking of as well, but it all seemed a big jumble in her thoughts. It wasn't fair to Tristan if she stayed in London, and she couldn't see not being with him or not taking the internship options. At least, not good options. She stopped along the path, feeling the pressure to confess. The bottom line was that she needed to talk to Tristan, as sweet as his grandfather was being. The tension at dinner had been insurmountable, and she couldn't really blame him for his tactics.

"I should probably talk to Tristan."

"Do you mind if I do so first?"

Rory shook her head. "No, of course. But, can you not mention anything about my needing to talk to him?"

Janlan paused for a moment, choosing his words. "I won't bring it up, but I believe he knows something is going on. Either that, or there's something he has on his mind that he needs to discuss with you as well."

"I'll just go and get him," she smiled weakly, leaving Janlan near the walled off garden that Tristan had taken her to on their first outing to the property. She found him sitting in the parlor, drinking brandy out of a snifter. He looked up when her shadow fell across the floor in front of him.

"Hey," he smiled, outstretching a hand to her.

"Hey. I wanted to talk to you, but your grandfather called dibs on you," she giggled softly, moving to sit on his left knee.

"Promise you'll wait up for me?"

She kissed his cheek. "Of course. Now, give me that, and I'll see you when you get back up to our room."

He handed her the remainder of his drink and kissed the top of her head after she took his place in the chair. She took a whiff of the fragrant alcohol and watched as he slipped out the front door, off to meet his grandfather.

XXXX

"You rang?"

"Is there something you need to tell me?"

"What makes you ask?"

"Cut the question game, Tristan. I realize this whole scene with your parents has made you consider your future. What are you seeing as your options?"

Tristan let out a sigh and ran one hand through his messy blonde locks. "Cutting straight to the point tonight, are we?"

"You've known me to be any different in the past? Where do you think you get your attitude?" the older man joked.

"You didn't interrogate Rory like this, did you?"

"What do you take me for, a fool?"

Tristan smirked. "What did she tell you?"

"None of your damn business."

Tristan looked taken aback for a moment, but didn't want to hear the old man tell him that the whole damn world didn't revolve around him. He already knew this to be true.

"I have been giving my future some thought. I came out to London trying to buy myself some time, but it hasn't worked out that way."

"Now you've got all the time in the world. My lawyers will see to that."

Tristan nodded gratefully. "And I appreciate that."

"Listen. You're 21 years old. You think that you can take a year off here and bum around for six months there and it won't matter because you've got your whole life to figure things out, am I correct?"

"I wouldn't go that far," Tristan protested.

"I was young once too, remember. But what I want you to think about now is that there are things that only come along once in this life. You think you're immortal and your chances are innumerable, but that's not how life works."

"What are you talking about?" Tristan asked, feeling his stomach tighten in understanding.

"You've kept me apprised of all the issues the two of you have been working your way through. One moment you two seem indestructible and the next you're letting her storm off, each time for all you know could mean her walking out of your life forever. And when the two of you came in this evening, it was clear to me that there are things unsaid between the two of you."

"What are you, my Jedi master?" he snarked.

"Shut up and listen for a moment longer," he instructed. "This girl isn't something that is going to come around again in your life. What aren't you telling her?"

Tristan rubbed the back of his neck with one hand and nodded. "I'm trying not to scare her off. She isn't ready for more right now, and it's all I can think about."

"Don't put words in her mouth. What are you thinking about? Do you see a future with her?"

"Yes. I do."

"Then make her talk. And don't keep her in the dark. You're free from your family concerns. Leave that to me. You concentrate on more important things."

Tristan nodded and patted his grandfather on the back. "I get it," he assured him. "Can I go talk to her now?"

"If you know what's good for you," Janlan said, pulling his grandson in for a hug. "One last thing."

Tristan looked up, his attention held.

"No matter what happens, never let her be able to doubt how you feel for her."

"I'll see you in the morning," Tristan shoved his hands into his pockets, and turned to walk back up to the house.

XXXX

Rory was still up, true to her word, but she was nestled underneath the covers with a book occupying her attention. She looked up and placed the now closed book on the pillow next to her upon his entrance into the room.

"I'm making progress. Once upon a time, you would have kept reading."

She shook her head in amusement. "Did you come up here to give me a hard time?" she chided him.

"Never," he held up three fingers in a sign of honor. "Come on, get up."

"Up? But I thought you were coming to bed," she winked at him knowingly.

"There is time for that later, my dear," he assured her. "I thought we'd take a walk of our own. They're very popular tonight."

"Okay. Just let me grab a sweater," she paused as she swung her legs out from under the covers. "And some pants."

"Must you?" he came up in front of her and ran his hands up underneath the T-shirt that was covering her as best it could.

"If you keep that up, not much talking or walking will get done," she warned him.

He groaned, but knew she was right, stepping back with raised hands to let her finish pulling her clothes on. He took her hand once she was ready and then pulled her under his arm as they continued to walk out into the chilly night air.

He cleared his throat once they reached the walled garden, and she looked at him before he led them inside. "So, there are some things I've been wanting to talk to you about," he began.

She put her hand up and pressed a finger to his lips. "No, wait. I need to go first."

He furrowed his brow at her insistency and the urgency in her voice. She swallowed hard, and moved back from him in order to pace back and forth a bit. "I've been meaning to talk to you about this for days now. I know I should have told you as soon as I found out, but I just didn't know how. Part of me felt like it was my thing to figure out, but the more I thought about it the more I saw that was selfish of me—after all, this affects you too," she babbled, until he caught her shoulders with both hands, steadying her in front of him.

His face was unreadable. His eyes were warm and concerned, but his lips were set in a straight line. She took another deep breath, now just wanting to tell him as quickly as possible and get it over with.

"This is a lot harder than I thought it would be," she admitted, now looking directly into his eyes.

"Oh my God," he breathed in realization, and pulled her in to his chest. "Rory, this is going to be fine."

"What's going to be fine?" she asked, not getting the conclusion he was busy jumping to.

"I've been giving this a lot of thought, lately, about what I want out of life. And maybe we haven't got this all planned out as much as you'd like, but Rory, I've known for quite some time that I want to be with you. I want to marry you," he leaned down to kiss her lips that were parted in shock from his revelation.

"You want to marry me? But, what—why?"

"I know what you're thinking, you're worried that this is because you're pregnant, and not because I really want to, but I can't imagine going one more day without waking up next to you," his voice was full of sincerity, as were his eyes.

"We can't get married," she blurted out, her mind reeling from the last five minutes of their conversation.

"Rory, I know right now this is overwhelming, but just--," he began, but she cut him off, her voice much louder than his.

"Tristan, I'm not pregnant, I've been offered a job in London. They want me to stay in London!" she blurted out.


	27. Chapter 27

He backed up as her words washed over him. His world changed suddenly—he felt as if he was speeding ahead into a life filled with happiness for moments before being snagged on some cosmic twig and hurled back into a harsh present. When he focused his clouded eyes back on her face, he saw the source of all his frayed emotions.

"I didn't mean to blurt it out like that," she said softly, taking a calm step toward him.

He backed up yet again. "You're staying in London?" he asked in disbelief.

"No! I mean, maybe, but nothing's decided yet," she shook her head.

He nodded and stayed still as she moved closer to him again. She crossed her arms and ran one hand absently down the front of her shirt, her hand coming to rest over her heart. "What did—why did you think I was pregnant?"

"How could I not? God, Rory, you were going on about this being your problem, but mine too, and how hard it was to tell me—what the hell was I supposed to think?"

"But we're careful," she reasoned.

"A lot of people are careful, Rory. Nothing's perfect."

She was sure his last comment held a double meaning. "I know that."

"How can you stay in London, after everything we've been talking about?"

"How can I not stay in London? Tristan, they're offering me a paid internship and way more responsibility. This is huge—I came here to find out if I had what it takes to make it, and they're telling me I can, offering me everything I've wanted. How can you not want me to take it?" her voice rose as her tirade continued, despite her not wanting this to escalate into a shouting match.

"Don't put words in my mouth, Rory. You tell me nothing about this, and when I have questions, you accuse me of not wanting you to live out your dreams? That's rich," he volleyed the shouting back at her now.

"God, can we stop? Just stop yelling and talk to me!"

He crossed his arms protectively and nodded. "Fine. How long have you been considering this?"

"Three days," she said quietly.

"Okay, so you've had three days to make up your mind and I've had thirty seconds to process the fact that you're staying in London for how much longer?"

"The rest of the school year."

He nodded. He held in any comment, which made her only more guilty and uncomfortable. He had many talents when it came to arguing and alienation of affection. It pained him to apply them to her as much as it hurt her to feel the impacts.

"And I'm not definitely taking it. I wanted to know what you thought about the possibility of my staying."

"Sure," he replied flippantly.

"Tristan, don't," she urged.

"Don't what? You just said yourself that you have to take this. It's all you've ever wanted," he said pointedly.

"Stop," she said, tears threatening to fall down her cheeks at any moment. He had a vindictive way of speaking that made her ache all over. "That's not true. I haven't decided anything. I can't, not without you."

"If that were true, you'd have told me three days ago."

She fell silent, knowing that there was some truth to his statement, but not what he thought. It was true that she should have told him three days ago. Part of her had wanted to make the decision on her own, but as the days passed, it became more than clear that her whereabouts were now more than where she hangs her hat. Where she lived was contingent on where he was going to be, and it would affect both of them.

"Do you want me to take this internship, yes or no?" she asked boldly, trying to dismiss his prior comments.

But he wouldn't let it go. "It doesn't matter what I want you to do."

"Yes, it does!"

"No, it doesn't. Because when it comes down to it, you're going to put your work ahead of everything else. You did the same thing with Logan, didn't you?"

"What?" she asked, truly shocked that this was the tactic he was taking.

"Because it's either that or you ran from him when it got too serious, and blamed your ambitions instead of confronting what you were really feeling."

"How dare you?" she glared at him, her stare turning icy. "Don't make this into something it's not. If you want to break this off, fine, but don't make it seem like I'm doing this to run away from our relationship!"

"I want to break this off?" he boomed. "Where you here five minutes ago, when I said I wanted to marry you?"

"You thought I was pregnant! You were covering your ass!"

"You've got everything all figured out, don't you? How convenient, you don't have to face any of your real feelings; you just get to blame whatever is most expedient."

"Oh, so, you're saying you really want to marry me?" she scoffed.

He moved in and pulled her against him roughly, kissing her with all the anger and frustration he had in his body. It took her a moment to react to his motions, but soon her arms were around his neck as he lifted her up off the ground. He continued to be aggressive, not allowing her thought or breath or escape. He held her captive, and wasn't going to let her run away from him in any way. He heard his grandfather's words, to make sure she could never doubt his feelings for her. And if there was one thing he was going to make sure of, she was not going to be able to hide from him. It was unacceptable after all they've gone through together up to this point.

When he pulled back slowly, still holding her up off the ground as she strained on tip-toe with closed eyes and her head bent in to him, he tightened his grip on her.

"Oh," she breathed.

He waited for her to open her eyes, glad to have some time to collect his thoughts. He knew he didn't help matters during their exchanges when his temper flared and sent both of them spiraling into the depths of their defenses. She looked at him, and he could see her disbelief at his readiness for her to answer this unasked question.

"Rory, I want you to understand something, and I want you to let me finish before you say anything, okay?"

She nodded, too stunned to speak at any rate.

"I didn't decide that I wanted to marry you when I thought you were trying to tell me you were pregnant," he admitted as he ran a hand through his hair. He'd let go of her as he started his speech, but she hadn't backed away from him at all. It was all she could do just to remain standing at all, let alone move in any direction.

"You aren't the only one that has been holding back information. I didn't want to push the topic, because I know you aren't ready for that, but all I can think about lately is keeping you in my life after all this is over. And I realized that if I'm not content with the nights that we have to spend apart now, just knowing you're two hundred feet away, then I'm not going to be content if we're back home in different states, having to wait weeks to see each other. And the more I thought about it, the more I realized this was real, and I want this to last."

She nodded slightly, but said nothing as he looked like he was going to continue.

"And I know we fight, and we both have this nasty habit of feeling like we should deal with out problems alone, but here's what I think. Maybe we're not ready to get married now—you need to get used to the idea that what's mine is yours and I have to learn that screaming at you probably isn't in my best interest if I want you to stick around and tell me things," he smirked, causing her to smile as well. "But I want you to know that these things will only happen if we're together, making them happen. And it's what I want. I do want to marry you, more than anything."

"So," she began, but he pressed a finger to her lips. He wasn't finished.

"So," he teased, "I think you should take this internship, assuming you want to, and I will be wherever it is you are. I will make it happen. And when we're ready, I'm going to propose to you," he whispered the last part, causing her to blush.

"Can I speak now?"

He nodded his consent.

"You're really willing to stay in London if I do?"

"I don't have any other choice," he nodded, smiling at her as she searched his eyes for any shred of doubt.

"Yes, you do. I don't want to make you do anything that you don't--," she began.

"You can try all you want; you're not getting a fight out of me on this. This is what I want. I want you. Plain and simple."

Her mind reeled from the sudden clarity his declaration provided her. She went from grappling with impossibilities of this choice to feeling a decision sweep over her. "I'm still not going to use your credit cards," she countered.

He held up his hands in defeat. "I should be relieved to find a woman who isn't out to spend my fortune, right?"

"Guess you just don't know when you have a good thing," she agreed.

"I'm starting to figure it out."

She leaned up to kiss him again, contentment flooding over her. She leaned against his chest as he wrapped his arms around her, his head rested on top of hers.

"There is one thing you haven't factored into your plan, though, I'm afraid," she said after a moment of letting the fact that this man wanted to marry her wash over her. With all her quirks and flaws and everything, he wanted all she entailed.

"What's that?"

"You have to win my mother over, first."

Tristan made a noise of displeasure. "Just your mother?"

"Well, then there's her boyfriend. He's been in fist fights with two of my three ex-boyfriends—though he did try valiantly to maintain his perfect record. Mom headed him off at the pass the last time. Threw him out of the room, in fact. Oh, and my dad, you'll have to meet him. And my grandparents," she ticked off.

"Is that all?" he asked, his tone wavering between amusement and uncertainty.

"You'll have to pass the Stars Hollow survival test. That should wait until after the holidays, though. Patty and Babette's hands get harder to dodge, the more alcohol they consume."

"You know what? Staying here is sounding better and better."

"What about Christmas?" she giggled.

"Who's going to like me the most?"

"My grandparents," she answered easily.

"We start with them. We can stay in Hartford for the majority of the time."

"Not if you want to stay on my mother's good side. We have to start with her. If she likes you, she can make everything else very easy to handle."

"See, you've got it easy. All you had to do was meet my grandfather and he's completely won over already."

She kissed him again. "I inherited that skill from my mother."

"Sounds like I seriously need to meet this woman," he concluded.

"All in good time. Right now I think it's time you take me upstairs and warm me up," she hinted, brushing her cold nose against him as she pulled herself in closer to his warm frame.

"My pleasure," he answered, steering her back up toward the main entrance of the now mostly darkened house. While their words were binding enough, it wasn't a satisfactory approach for either to completely seal this new level they'd achieved in their fragile yet unbreakable relationship.

XXXX

"My little girl is getting married!"

Rory held the phone out from her ear, fearful of more shouting from her mother's overly hormonal mouth. She might go deaf at this rate if she didn't take such precautions.

"You never listen. That isn't what I said. I said we talked about it."

"So, you don't want to marry him?"

"He didn't ask me to, thus making it hard to say yes."

"But . . . I'm confused."

"Not the first time."

"You called me to tell me what exactly?"

"That I told my supervisor today that I will take the internship. And that Tristan is going to stay over here with me, and that we've discussed getting married at some point in the future."

"But not in the near future?"

"I didn't say that."

"GAH! What are you saying?"

"Geesh, I think I'm glad I'll be way over here, with the safety of the Atlantic between us until way after that kid has released its grip on your sanity."

"Rory, just because the doctor told me I shouldn't fly doesn't mean I won't come over there and--," she warned.

She sighed. "I thought you might like to meet him before I agreed to marry him."

"You do love me!" she squealed.

"A little."

"Ooh, do I get to threaten his perfect body should her ever deign to make you cry?"

"No."

"Can I make him my errand boy until I'm properly satisfied with his abilities to take care of you?"

"Nope."

"What can I do?"

"Stay home when I take him to meet the grandparents. That would be a great help."

Lorelai huffed. "Can't I even make the kid baby-sit to see how good of a father he'd make to my prospective grandchildren?"

Rory thought for a moment. This pause was partially for her, partially to make her mother squirm. "I suppose that's not such a horrible idea."

Tristan moaned. "Exactly what are you promising my services for?"

"He's right there!" Lorelai exclaimed again at eardrum shattering decibels.

"So?"

"So? This is girl talk time, no boys allowed in the vicinity!"

"Oh, like you've never talked to me with Luke sitting right there!"

"Never!"

"Liar! Besides, it's late here and we're getting ready to go to bed."

"Put him on the phone!" Lorelai commanded.

"What? No, no way."

"Lorelai Leigh Gilmore, I am your mother, and when I tell you to do something, you are to do it!"

Rory rolled her eyes. Her attention was obtained by the full use of her name, but she wasn't prepared to hand the phone over just yet. Tristan was watching her quite preoccupied with her conversation, having forgotten about his book long ago.

"Mom," she protested.

"I'll be nice," she said sweetly, though her tone worried Rory more than comforted her.

"Fine. But if he blushes or cringes or--," Rory began.

"I just said I'd be nice."

"That's what I'm afraid of. Hang on," she said, putting the phone to her chest, she turned slightly to look at Tristan.

"I'm sorry."

"She wants to talk to me?" he smirked.

"Only respond to yes or no questions and remember, she's a few months pregnant."

"I know, she doesn't mean any of the threats she makes to my person."

"Oh, no. She does."

"Great," he said, taking the phone from her hands.

"Hello?" he inquired pleasantly.

"Tristan. I've heard so much about you."

"And I you."

"So, let's get down to it, shall we?"

"Uh, sure?" he widened his eyes at Rory, who began to reach for the phone, but he leaned out of her grasp.

"I have to say, when Rory first told me about you, I was afraid you were going to take her down the same path she just went down, well, you know about Logan," she sighed.

"Look, I," he started, but he soon found out where Rory got her skills of cutting him off mid-thought.

"But from what she's said, you are willing to give her everything she wants, not what you want for her. So, we've got some serious business to discuss."

"Okay," he said, still not quite sure where she was going with this.

"I want to plan a party for her, over the Christmas break. And I want your help," she confided.

"Ah, now that I can do," he smiled at his girlfriend as she now crawled on top of him to up her efforts to get her phone back.

"It's my phone!" she complained, but he just patted her head as he listened to Lorelai.

"My pleasure," he said into the phone. "Uh, I think I better give you back to Rory, or else she might pull a muscle trying to rip the phone out of my hand."

"I don't appreciate the two of you conspiring," she informed them both.

"Oops, Luke's home. I should go."

"Is this payback for my agreeing with Luke over the years?"

"Bye, honey!"

Rory shut her phone and glared at Tristan. He just smiled at her before reaching to turn off her bedside light. "Hey, you put me on the phone. It's not my fault it went well."

"I'm glad it went well; I just want to know what you were talking about," she explained.

"I'm beat. We should really get some sleep," he informed her, pulling her in close in efforts to silence her as she moved to snuggle down under the covers with him.

"But, I," she protested, cut off by a lingering goodnight kiss.

He was becoming an expert at making her forget the world and focus on what was going on in this instant. And in this instant, everything was perfect. All the aspects of her life were broadening—a new sibling on the way, a new career step planned out, Tristan in her life. And a promise of so much more. She'd come to England to refocus and get away from her life, much as he had. What they had found was their way together and through to somewhere much better, to a place where the happiness they obtained was due to their being there to aid the other. There was no doubt in either of their minds that this was exactly where they were meant to be.

AN: Okay. You're thinking that sounded like the end of this story, right? Well, then you're very smart cookies. I am going to add one more chapter, and epilogue of sorts. Thanks for all of you who have been so wonderful to review this story so regularly. And if I had a prize to give for longest review EVER, it would have to go to Katherine, who left the world's longest review for this story last time. I don't have a reward, save for my undying gratitude and love.


	28. Epilogue

AN: As promised, the epilogue to wrap this baby up. It's extra long for good measure. For a good Trory fix, hit the Seasonal Passions site for the newly posted Spring Exchange stories. Link can be found on my homepage. And now, the last chapter--Set a few months after the last chapter's end.

Tristan came up behind Rory, sliding his arms around her waist and pulling her shoulders back against his chest. She responded by letting her head fall back, resting it on his shoulder. She closed her eyes in pleasure at the feel of his breath lightly falling against her ear.

"Help me."

His voice was panicked. She turned in his arms, eager to see the look on his face. She'd never seen him in such a frenzy before this evening. He was in a perpetual state of fear as the cat and mouse game persisted.

"Who was it this time?"

"The dance teacher. Again," he winced as she gave him a sympathetic pout.

"Yeah, she's kind of relentless."

"Is there somewhere we can go, to just be alone?"

"Oh, I see. You can have conversation after conversation with my mother, plotting and planning out every single detail of this party, withholding all said plans from me, and now you want to ditch?"

He nodded and gave her his most sincere smile. "You know me so well."

"Forget it. I still want to know how you managed to get Luke to agree to have a New Year's Eve party in the diner," she said in amazement.

"That was all your mother's doing. I stopped asking questions when she started talking about her womanly wiles."

Rory snickered at his discomfort. "Yeah, probably the safest route on your part."

"So, back to our getting a second alone," he prodded.

"Rory, honey!"

Rory looked up to see Babette and Patty attempting to make their way through the crowd that had assembled inside the diner's confines. She felt Tristan tense up, his hind quarters still sore from the inordinate amounts of attention it'd seen so far this evening.

"Okay, go behind the curtain."

"What?" he asked, not quite sure he'd understood her.

"The curtain, behind the curtain," she shoved him quickly, immediately pulling the curtain closed behind her and following him up the stairs. He continued until he got to the door, and he let her open it.

"Where are we?"

"Luke's old apartment. Is this private enough for you?"

"It'll do," he said, pulling her in for a not-so-innocent kiss. They'd been surrounded by people non-stop all day, constantly in the midst of a crowd with no time to recharge with each other. Not to say there'd been no contact between them—his hand was magnetized to her shoulder, the small of her back, her thigh, her hand—Lorelai had taken hold if it at one point to see if there was a scar from the implantation surgery.

He'd taken to Lorelai readily since their return to the States, appreciating her sense of humor and not taking her threats too seriously. They'd been with either her in Stars Hollow or Janlan in Hartford for most of their holiday stay thus far. Rory had commented that of course Lorelai loved him—he'd been in cahoots with her for months now.

She ran a hand up his chest, coming to rest on the top button of his shirt, the pad of her finger running around the small circle. Her breath had already quickened, and as if out of instinct, she backed him toward the couch.

The door flew open and Rory spun away from Tristan, feeling sixteen all over again. Lorelai stared at them open-mouthed for a moment before gaining her composure.

"Wow. Déjà vu."

"Mom, what are you doing?"

"In my fiancée's office? Hmm, now, let me think," she said, mocking her daughter. However, her vocalizations didn't distract Rory from the fact that her mother was holding something behind her back.

"Whatcha' got there?" Rory inquired.

"Oh, you know. Nothing."

"It's pink and fluffy," Rory furrowed her brow. "Do you--," she began, her eyes widening with understanding. Tristan watched the conversation with interest, much like he would watch a tennis match.

"No! We don't know yet," Lorelai stressed the last word.

"So, what's with the pink?"

"Evidently Gypsy is rooting for a girl," Lorelai sighed.

"I'm sorry, but what?" Rory said, taking the soft blanket with a bunny head affixed to one corner from her mother and feeling the texture.

"Do you remember when Luke and I broke up? How the town divided its interests with pink and blue ribbons?"

Rory groaned. "Yes. I am the one that put an end to it, how could I forget?"

"Yes, and for that, you'll remain my oldest and dearest child, forever," she said petting Rory's head playfully.

"So, what's the blanket for?" Tristan cleared his throat.

"People are betting on the sex of the baby—and in order to put their money where their mouths are, they're supplying us with gender specific gifts, sort of a goodwill effort on their part to win the growing prize jackpot."

"Geesh, how big is the pool?"

"The winner could go on a nice Caribbean cruise," Lorelai rolled her eyes. "I was just coming to put this with the rest of the loot."

Rory and Tristan followed Lorelai to the closet, now filled to the brim with blankies, binkies, bottles, and rattles.

"That's a lot of pink," Tristan said.

"Yeah. It really is."

"Maybe I should get in on this deal," Rory mused.

Lorelai shot her a look. "You'd bet on your baby sibling?"

"For a cruise? You're darn tootin'."

"Yeah, well, I'm just worried we're having a boy, and man is he going to be a flamboyant dresser for the first few months."

"I'm sure Luke will buy little baby flannel shirts to cover up the pink 'Me plus 16 Years equals Heartbreaker' onesie."

Tristan snickered. Lorelai sighed. "He got very pale when we opened that one. I don't think the idea of having a daughter that would one day date had occurred to him yet."

"Well, it's getting much more noticeable to the world," Rory said, putting a hand on her mother's newly protruding tummy. Lorelai smiled and put her hand on top of her hand.

"You calling me fat?" she teased.

"You saw right through me. I really need to work on my veiled comments," Rory said.

"How about starting with how you'll see her back downstairs in about five minutes?" Tristan offered, interrupting the mother-daughter bonding moment.

Rory blushed and Lorelai crossed her arms. "Now, why would I want to do that?"

"So I can take your dau--," he began bluntly, but Rory put a hand over his mouth, trying to keep her composure as he licked her palm.

"We'll be right down," she promised her mother, trying to squelch the tightening in her stomach. Lorelai gave them one last scrutinizing look and headed for the door.

"Five minutes—the grandparents just showed up as I was coming up," she said.

"Aha! Your real reason for coming up!" Rory cried as her mother disappeared without another word through the door.

"Finally," Tristan said, moving her back over to the couch to pick up where they left off.

"Tristan," she protested, albeit not strongly, as his hands pulled her hips flush against his before sliding them around to fiddle with the fastener to her skirt.

"Our grandparents are downstairs," she said, as if this was a deterrent.

"So?"

"So? I can't do, this, knowing they're down there—not to mention everyone I've ever known practically. It's not right. Someone could walk in, like Mom just did," she warned.

"I think it's time we explore another facet of our sexual escapades," he informed her before kissing her hard, using his tongue to stroke her palate until she was not only unable to protest, but she couldn't remember why she ever would have wanted to in the first place. She lost her balance, tumbling against the couch and taking him along with her. She giggled as his hand slipped up under her shirt, tickling her stomach. He looked into her eyes, reveling in how they glistened in the half-lit room.

"You haven't mentioned the fact that you haven't gotten a Christmas present," he whispered.

"Well, I kind of thought the whole you coming back to London because of me was a pretty good present."

He shook his head. "Nope. Not quite good enough."

She looked at him with great curiosity. "Are you saying you got me something else?"

He just smirked.

"Tristan, come on. And it better not be anything too expensive. You'll make my gift look pitiful."

"Hey, I love my present. Though I am curious as to why you bought me pajamas."

"It's the one thing that I knew you didn't have," she smiled, clearly proud of herself. "Now, about my present."

"You know, we should probably get back downstairs. What with you being the guest of honor at this shindig and all."

"Tristan!" she complained as he pried himself off of her and eased toward the door.

"I must say, I've never been to a Congratulations-Welcome Home-Bon Voyage-New Year's Eve Party before."

"You don't really have a present for me, do you?" she countered, following him to the now open door.

"Come downstairs and find out," he teased, turning to jog down the stairs ahead of her.

XXXX

"So, Rory, how has my grandson been treating you?" Janlan asked as she stood with him and Richard, each nursing a drink.

"Well, currently he's teasing me with a non-existent present, but other than that, I can't really complain. He's excited about working for the London branch of your offices this semester."

"Taunting you with a gift? Why ever would he do such a thing?" Richard asked.

"He's a smartass," Janlan supplied.

"Ah, he takes after you," Richard chuckled, causing Janlan to raise his glass in accord.

"Damn straight."

Rory giggled at the men's behavior, enjoying seeing her grandfather around his cohort. Tristan joined them as she continued to watch them carry on. "What're we talking about?"

"Your withholding of my gift," she said.

"Patience, my dear, patience. It's all about the timing."

"Hey, I'm patient. I just don't appreciate you holding out on me. Maybe I won't tell you what I just found out."

He looked at her now instead of looking around for the infamous pairs of grabby hands that he'd just escaped from again. "News?"

"I got an email from Dan earlier today."

"No kidding? What did he end up doing?"

Tristan was referring to the major decision the end of the semester had left him with. It was the second term of his year-long commitment, and he was scheduled to head back to the University of Chicago next semester. Elisa, however, was scheduled to head back to Montana, where her school and ex-boyfriend awaited her. It'd been the latter and the fact that Elisa wasn't so good at the long distance thing that worried him. Dan and Elisa had been inseparable since she officially broke it off with her long-distance relationship, and they'd agreed to stay together no matter what. Dan had been freaking out for the last two weeks before they left, unsure what he was going to do. Tristan had been more than relieved to have gone through the same drama with Rory so much earlier on. They'd been able to relax and enjoy the rest of their semester, worrying only about final exams at the end of the year.

Rory smiled. "He went to Montana."

"I told you," he said.

"And I will make good on our bet."

"Your bet?" Janlan asked.

Rory sighed. "I thought he'd go back to Chicago, and Tristan said he'd buckle and follow Elisa. We argued for a bit, and then decided that whoever was wrong would be the other's slave for a day."

"Week," Tristan corrected.

"Day," she said, turning to face him.

"Week," he insisted, moving in closer to her.

"Okay, we get it, you two like to fight and make up. Save it, 'cause no one here wants to see you make up quite so publicly," Lorelai came up behind them, leaning over the counter.

"Lorelai, there you are. Your mother was looking for you," Richard announced.

"How nice," she smiled, immediately ducking back into the store room to avoid her mother for a while longer. She was in no mood to talk about the appropriateness of a diner for this occasion. She didn't care that it was a beloved fixture of her and Rory's lives, and the one place aside from the house that Rory had missed the most during her time away.

Richard sighed, and Tristan gave Rory a squeeze around her waist. No one paid attention to the jingle above the door—so many people had been coming and going all night, it'd been long since drowned out by the boisterous conversations of the crowd of well-wishers and punch-drunk party-goers.

But it didn't go unnoticed when Jara DuGrey stopped next to Janlan and smiled at her son and his girlfriend. Janlan set his glass down on the counter, and put his arm around his daughter-in-law.

"Jara, this is a surprise," he said, unable to process what her being at the party meant.

"Mom, what are you doing here?"

"My, Tristan, I would chastise you for speaking to your mother in such a way, but I can't say as I can reprimand you, given, well, everything," she nodded. "I've left your father."

Rory felt Tristan lean back, and she repositioned herself to lend more support for him with her arm that was currently around his waist. "What?"

"I knew when you two were in Paris—after I cornered Rory like I did—how insane this was. I'm so sorry, dear, for doing that to you. I didn't know what else to do. I could tell Tristan was serious about you, but he didn't want to introduce you to us, I realized that I was never going to be a part of my son's life if I didn't do something. About a month ago, the FBI came to me, and asked me provide some information from the business. I knew it was my out, and so, I took it."

Tristan and Janlan didn't look nearly as shocked at Rory and Richard did. "So, wait, he's--," Rory sputtered.

"Going to jail," Tristan said unaffectedly.

"You did the right thing, dear," Janlan slid his arm around her shoulders, as she let a few tears escape.

"I know I shouldn't cry. It's better this way. I only hope that it's not too late. For us, I mean," she said, looking at her son.

"No, Mom, no," he said, stepping forward to hug his mother.

"Good. And now that you'll be back in the area," she began, but he shook his head.

"Actually, I won't be. I'm going back to London for a few months. In fact, that's something I would like to talk about," he announced, stepping up on a stool and letting out a whistle using his fingers in his mouth. The diner grew quiet, and everyone turned to look at him—even Lorelai stuck her head out from the store room, though it meant her cover begin blown.

"Tristan, get down," Rory admonished him. "Luke'll kill you!"

"I don't think so," he smiled, looking from her to Luke and Lorelai, who both smiled back at him, further confusing Rory.

"Now that I have everyone's attention, I just wanted to say congratulations to Rory, for schmoozing her boss into bumping her into an extended and now paid internship at the BBC," he said loudly, causing everyone to break into applause. Rory blushed, as per usual at any public outpouring of admiration. "Though I must say, it threw a major wrench in my plans. I was fully planning on coming back and transferring to Yale so we could be together from here on out."

"With her going back to London, I've decided to go back as well. But the idea of living apart again really didn't appeal to me. So, without further ado, I'd like to present Rory with the first part of her belated Christmas present," he said, pulling a small box out of his pocket.

"What is this?" she whispered as he pulled her up to stand on the stool next to him.

"Open it and find out," he whispered back.

She did so without further hesitation, and pulled up a key ring with two keys on it. She looked to Tristan. "What's this?"

"The keys to our flat."

"Our flat?"

"I found a place for us. No more dorm for you, no sad little bachelor apartment for me."

Rory threw her arms around his neck, almost knocking them off their stools. Luke lunged forward, at the ready to steady them, but Tristan shifted his weight to avert danger.

"Aw, just what every mother dreams of. My little girl is moving thousands of miles away and in with a man who can't keep his grubby paws off her," Lorelai mocked wiping a tear from her eyes, causing a ripple of laughter throughout the crowd—though she heard a distinctive "Really, Lorelai," that sounded suspiciously like her mother's disapproval.

Tristan hopped down from the stools once Rory let go of his neck, and helped her down as well. "Now, for part two," he smiled at her.

"Tristan, this is more than enough."

"I'll be the judge of that," he corrected her. She stopped protesting as he dropped to one knee in front of her. She wasn't sure whether she should pull him up or kneel with him—it didn't matter because she was too stunned to take command of her muscles at the moment.

"So, I cleared it with your family. And I mean all of your family. Your mom took a bit of convincing, thus the many hours of phone calls that bothered you so much. She sent me on a Monty Pythonesque quest for permission. I talked to your grandparents, your dad, even Luke," he smirked. "And they've all consented to hand you over. If you'll have me," he tightened his grip on her hand, the only way she could tell he was nervous.

"You--," she began, but her tears seemed to stop her. "Really?" her last word was a soft whisper, but the crowd hadn't made a sound, making her question sound much louder than it was.

The room waited as her brain processed the scene.

"You think we're ready? I mean, we still fight over dumb things," she whispered.

"But it's fun making up," he countered.

She smiled in response. He opened up the ring box and she gasped. "Wow."

"Is that a yes?" he waited in now a substantial amount of anticipation.

"Yes."

"Okay, now I'm proud. She waited to see the goods before answering. My baby's all grown up," Lorelai lessened her grip on Luke to move around and hug her daughter first, before the throngs of people around her had the opportunity.

"I can't believe this was what you were plotting all this time—you knew and you didn't tell me," she shook her head in amazement, looking down at the ring that Tristan had just slipped on her finger.

"I only consented to this because he was so willing to play along with my evil plots," Lorelai smiled. "I like him, he's fun."

"Uh-oh," Rory groaned. "I'm not sure I like you being so chummy with him."

"Hey, if you're going to be in London longer, I'm going to need someone there to be my spy. At least until this one's out and on its own," she patted her stomach.

"Mom," Rory groaned as her mother pulled her back in for one more smothering hug.

"Just tell me one more thing. Was this whole studying abroad thing worth it? Was it everything you were hoping it to be?"

Tristan rejoined the pair, after shaking every hand in the joint and being pulled into the most lewd hug he'd ever been a part of, courtesy of Ms. Patty, and slipped an arm back around his fiancée.

"Everything and more," she nodded, snuggling into Tristan's side as they stood in the middle of their families and loads of townspeople, ready to help them celebrate their new commitment and their impending re-departure.

Final AN: Thank you to everyone who reviewed—you guys blew me away at your response to this story. I'm glad you enjoyed it so much. I won't be promising a sequel, as some of you have been asking for, but I never rule them out. That's all I'll say. That, and I hope you enjoyed this ending.


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